Archive for May, 2012

The latest installment in the series. Hope you’ve already read the other 3, otherwise hurry over. NOW!


Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here


Adrian carefully lifted the sword out of the box, knowing that even touching the blade would be a catastrophe for him and the house. It felt as if the sword was softly whispering to him, trying frantically to get out of his hands and drop to the floor. But Adrian was careful enough not to let that happen, he had seen how much the sword loved setting things ablaze.

It was the summer of 1997, a few months after Isabelle had passed away and the sword entered the house. Adrian wished to have no further role for it, and he had wanted to burn the ungodly thing with her corpse. But even after the last ashes had floated away, the sword had stuck around. Oh, it was set ablaze to all hell glory, but not a single mark was left behind on the jewels or the handle of such magnificent steel. It had entered the mortal world for a purpose, and it wasn’t going to give up so easily.

One night, when 2-year old Jacob had been laid in bed and was fast asleep in his cot, Adrian took it out by the fireplace to have a closer look at it. Even in his hands, it just felt wrong, like it was yearning to prise itself free from him. The fire burnt low, and Adrian didn’t really feel man enough to get up and find the poker. He just lazily brushed aside the logs with the long tip of the sword, but it wasn’t an occurrence he was going to forget anytime soon…

The sword was set ablaze again, and it nearly burnt his hand off. The fire rose to at least a meter high, and would have set the carpet ablaze had it not been taken away because young Jacob had urinated on it that day. Adrian fell away from the fireplace, and couldn’t move a muscle till the fire subsided to its normal self. Slowly, he crept towards the ancient weapon, and picked it up. Words had appeared on the blade, words that looked like they had been burned onto the magnificent steel. They weren’t words he was going to forget anytime soon, for they were the last words Isabelle had ever spoken before him. “Bon Appétit, Jacob needs his beauty sleep.”

This was 13 years ago now, and Adrian would have happily left it all in the past had all this not happened. He had promptly sealed the weapon in a box filled with hay, and hidden it in a secluded corner of the attic. How it had moved by itself diagonally across the room only God knew, but then, God didn’t seem quite willing to give him support here, was he?

The sword wasn’t his, nor was it his mother’s. It had only shown those words because they were spoken at the last by the mother of the prodigy, but she wasn’t the prodigy. There was something queer about Jacob and how things always seemed to be …. different … around him. It was as if his presence itself bended the very will of nature, and caused ungodly things to happen. It was as if his just being born had caused a disturbance in the force, a disbalance that nature was struggling to overcome. But whatever it was, Adrian somehow knew that it was only the sword which could help Jacob wherever he had gone. But how he would get it to him, of that he had no idea.


Meanwhile, dark forces stirred around Jacob, as he tried to sleep among all those marshes. He shifted uncomfortably; there wasn’t an inch of dry space in those dark and damp areas of the living Earth. But journey through them was imperative; there was no other way around to get to the Doors of Haein.

Wishfully thinking of his mother, Jacob slept off among the reeds and other slimy plants that served as his pillow. But sleeping off didn’t mean that he got any peace. Dreamland is another dimension altogether, and one can easily get lost in them. Jacob had long since learned that his dreams weren’t just illusions, they were showing him the future.

A figure made his way through the tunnel, stumbling over the uneven rocky surface and bouncing off the balls. The tunnel opened out into a huge chasm, and the path suddenly stopped in the centre. The figure hurried over to the edge and kneeled, waiting for the words that he knew was coming.

“Did the girl tell anything?” – asked a voice. Jacob’s insides shriveled up just hearing it; it was as cold as the winter moon, without any expression… any mercy.

“No, my Lord. She refuses to divulge any of her past whatsoever, and all attempts to get into her mind were futile. It’s as if the boy’s power itself is shielding her mind, protecting it from us.”

“Then use the Drakenger.”

“But my Lord, she won’t survive it!”

“Then that doesn’t matter. Does it, Jacob?”

Jacob sprang awake, sweating. They had found Lucy.


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