loyalty to Alton is pure. You hold him in your heart. Alton, son
of Artigos, is a warrior true. You stand beside him, not behind him. You honor
the warrior, therefore you honor Lemuria. You are worthy of bearing crystal.”
Taron sat back on his heels.
“Amazing,” he said. Then he scrambled to his feet, crossed the room, and opened
a closet door. Reaching inside, he pulled out a scabbard similar to the one
holding HellFire. Inside was a sword of the same design.
The blade was dark. There was
no sense of life to it when Taron removed it from the scabbard. He held it up
and let the light shine off the crystal blade, but there was no fire from
within. Nothing like HellFire’s inner glow.
Taron studied his sword,
turning it to catch the light before setting it on the couch beside Hellfire.
“Each male carries a crystal sword.” His rough voice, barely above a whisper,
sent a shiver along Ginny’s spine.
Clearing his throat, he
continued in that same harsh rasp. “Mine will glow, but has never spoken.
Swords never do—not anymore—but we’ve all heard the stories of their sentience,
of swords coming to life. They’re supposed to be the souls of fallen warriors
come back to be our brave companions in battle.”
He turned to Ginny and his
eyes sparkled. “Did you know that legend says a sword dies if the warrior who
bears it is killed in battle? The blade turns black, like obsidian. If a
warrior acts in a cowardly manner, the blade shatters. All my life I’ve heard
of swords coming to life, heard of them speaking…but until now, I’ve never
actually heard one speak.”
He stared at Alton’s sword
with pure longing written in his eyes, on his face. Finally Taron sighed. “May
I touch you, HellFire?”
“You may. But
only the blade. Do not touch my hilt.”
Taron raised his head and his
eyes twinkled. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he said, but Ginny noticed that his
fingers trembled when he ran them the length of the crystal blade.
His sword remained lifeless
and silent. Taron stroked HellFire for a moment. Then he quietly returned his
own sword to its leather scabbard and once again stowed it in the closet. “One
day I hope to join Alton in the battle against demonkind. For now, though, I’ve
discovered that my strengths lie in another direction. My powers of persuasion
are better than I’d realized. My arguments are what swayed the council to drop
the death sentence.”
Ginny replaced HellFire in the
leather scabbard. “Does that mean your people will join the fight?”
“Not yet, but I see more and
more of the men leaning in that direction. It’s not going to be easy to change
thousands of years of inaction, even with Alton’s sentient sword. We are no
longer warriors.”
“Alton is. If he is, so are
you. So are the other men. I don’t think it’s something you lose, not if it’s
born inside of you.” Ginny stood up and started pacing. She couldn’t sit still,
not when Alton was a prisoner. Not when demons were taking over pets and wild
animals in the town of Sedona and somewhere up in Oregon. Not when she hadn’t
been able to reach Eddy and had no idea if her friend and Dax were safe or not. And what about Evergreen? Was her town okay? Now that
she was free of Alton’s compulsion, she remembered all the weird stuff that had
happened in her hometown just last week.
How could she ever have
forgotten that horrible bear with all those teeth? Or Alton’s
bravery? He’d leapt up on the bear’s back and risked his own life to
save hers. She’d never seen anyone act so bravely—or foolishly—in her life. And
he hadn’t even known her. He’d acted purely on instinct.
A warrior’s instinct.
For that matter, Alton hardly
knew her now. They were still essentially strangers, yet she was here, hoping
to help him, somehow, hiding out in another dimension deep within a dormant
volcano—only she wasn’t really in the volcano as she knew it on Earth. She’d
entered through Bell Rock in
of Artigos, is a warrior true. You stand beside him, not behind him. You honor
the warrior, therefore you honor Lemuria. You are worthy of bearing crystal.”
Taron sat back on his heels.
“Amazing,” he said. Then he scrambled to his feet, crossed the room, and opened
a closet door. Reaching inside, he pulled out a scabbard similar to the one
holding HellFire. Inside was a sword of the same design.
The blade was dark. There was
no sense of life to it when Taron removed it from the scabbard. He held it up
and let the light shine off the crystal blade, but there was no fire from
within. Nothing like HellFire’s inner glow.
Taron studied his sword,
turning it to catch the light before setting it on the couch beside Hellfire.
“Each male carries a crystal sword.” His rough voice, barely above a whisper,
sent a shiver along Ginny’s spine.
Clearing his throat, he
continued in that same harsh rasp. “Mine will glow, but has never spoken.
Swords never do—not anymore—but we’ve all heard the stories of their sentience,
of swords coming to life. They’re supposed to be the souls of fallen warriors
come back to be our brave companions in battle.”
He turned to Ginny and his
eyes sparkled. “Did you know that legend says a sword dies if the warrior who
bears it is killed in battle? The blade turns black, like obsidian. If a
warrior acts in a cowardly manner, the blade shatters. All my life I’ve heard
of swords coming to life, heard of them speaking…but until now, I’ve never
actually heard one speak.”
He stared at Alton’s sword
with pure longing written in his eyes, on his face. Finally Taron sighed. “May
I touch you, HellFire?”
“You may. But
only the blade. Do not touch my hilt.”
Taron raised his head and his
eyes twinkled. “Wouldn’t think of it,” he said, but Ginny noticed that his
fingers trembled when he ran them the length of the crystal blade.
His sword remained lifeless
and silent. Taron stroked HellFire for a moment. Then he quietly returned his
own sword to its leather scabbard and once again stowed it in the closet. “One
day I hope to join Alton in the battle against demonkind. For now, though, I’ve
discovered that my strengths lie in another direction. My powers of persuasion
are better than I’d realized. My arguments are what swayed the council to drop
the death sentence.”
Ginny replaced HellFire in the
leather scabbard. “Does that mean your people will join the fight?”
“Not yet, but I see more and
more of the men leaning in that direction. It’s not going to be easy to change
thousands of years of inaction, even with Alton’s sentient sword. We are no
longer warriors.”
“Alton is. If he is, so are
you. So are the other men. I don’t think it’s something you lose, not if it’s
born inside of you.” Ginny stood up and started pacing. She couldn’t sit still,
not when Alton was a prisoner. Not when demons were taking over pets and wild
animals in the town of Sedona and somewhere up in Oregon. Not when she hadn’t
been able to reach Eddy and had no idea if her friend and Dax were safe or not. And what about Evergreen? Was her town okay? Now that
she was free of Alton’s compulsion, she remembered all the weird stuff that had
happened in her hometown just last week.
How could she ever have
forgotten that horrible bear with all those teeth? Or Alton’s
bravery? He’d leapt up on the bear’s back and risked his own life to
save hers. She’d never seen anyone act so bravely—or foolishly—in her life. And
he hadn’t even known her. He’d acted purely on instinct.
A warrior’s instinct.
For that matter, Alton hardly
knew her now. They were still essentially strangers, yet she was here, hoping
to help him, somehow, hiding out in another dimension deep within a dormant
volcano—only she wasn’t really in the volcano as she knew it on Earth. She’d
entered through Bell Rock in
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