Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!
Found

     She hadn't meant to linger in the little shop. She'd meant to duck in, wait for her pursuers to pass and duck out again. But, in retrospect, it seemed nearly impossible that one could have gazed upon the Sword and then simply turned and walked away. Indeed, she had been so captivated by the sight that the chase was completely forgotten. The Sword seemed to grow larger in her vision, which baffled her until she realized that she had walked toward it. Perfect, the word bubbled to the surface of her mind as she studied the blade. Flawless. And, in fact, the Sword appeared so. The blade stretched nearly an arm's length, sporting a gentle curve and not a single scratch or nick, as if it had not ever left its stand. The hand-guard swept gracefully over the twisted hilt, the silver metal almost shining, almost defusing a soft, blue sheen through the air around it.
     Gena felt the cool, smooth surface under her fingers before she realized she'd lifted her hand. She had to blink several times to clear her vision; she'd thought for a moment that the Sword was sparkling, sending tiny, blue streaks of lightening into her fingers and hand and up her arm. The vision passed, but a faint tingling remained in her skin.
     Her body moved without her, lifting the Sword, stepping back, turning slowly to face the window of the shop. She got the impression that the window must have been caked in dust and dirt, as the light coming in the window was extremely dim and the street seemed still where there'd been a crushing crowd of pedestrians and vehicles several moments (or had it been several years?) ago. But then the Sword recaptured her attention and all other thoughts skittered away for some later time, as they no longer held any importance. After an indeterminable amount of time, a voice invaded her reverie, and her eyes finally left the blade to settle on a short, plump, old man that had approached unnoticed.
     "I see you've Found each other." His smile was both mischievous and gleeful, giving Gena the impression that she was being teased and congratulated at the same time. She found it hard to focus on the little man, who didn't seem quite as old as he'd first appeared. "It's been a long wait," he continued, as if Gena (or was it the Sword? or maybe he referred to himself?) had been expecting this moment for some time now. "You'll need something to carry it in, of course," now he focused definitely on Gena, "and some privacy for a while, suspect. I believe I can facilitate both." The little man bustled around behind a counter for a moment, ducking out of sight to rummage around, and reappeared triumphantly holding out a long, black bag of some sort. Again, Gena nearly crossed her eyes trying to focus on him. He seemed taller now, too. He held out the bag, and, fortunately, Gena found that some other force was still controlling her body, raising her hands and slipping the Sword into the pouch as if it were something she'd done all her life. Her hands fastened the bag closed and swung it expertly over her shoulder while her mind looked on, beginning to wonder what exactly was going on.
     Gena squinted into the harsh bright light, pausing in the doorway to allow her eyes to adjust. As her eyes became accustom to the brilliant glare, her mind began to catch up with her, and the events leading to her entry of the small store resurfaced in her memory. The recollections led her to quickly glance up and down the street for any sign of her pursuers, but they were nowhere to be seen.
     They must have already passed, she thought as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She glanced about to get her bearings, trying to calculate a route to safety, but stopped short, realizing suddenly that she didn’t recognize any of her surroundings.
     I’m new to this town – new to this planet, in fact – but I ought to see something familiar! I just walked by here a few minutes ago! The idea occurred to her that she was in a very different place than she had been a moment ago. She back-pedaled and leaned against the wall to steady herself while she thought. The wall? Hesitatingly, she turned around to look at the small store she had taken not more than two steps out of.
     As she had feared, it wasn’t there.
     Gena panicked a bit, running down the street, away from the fearful location of the now-vanished store. Two blocks later, she realized just how far she now was from where she’d entered the store. Instead of fleeing through the heart of the city, she found herself nearly at the outskirts, about to leave the city and enter the small forest that bordered its north end.
     About at the same time, she became aware of something else. Not a sight … not a sound, really … something out of place … He’s following you.
     Who? Where? Gena spun, searching the streets for this new threat. The crowd of pedestrians, though much thinner than that at the heart of the city, still presented a large number of faces to sort through. But Gena had no problem identifying her new pursuer.
     That one. Even without the mental tip, the boy stood out. His appearance and behavior were completely normal, not out of place at all, but, somehow, her mind assigned to him a distinctness, an aura, a radiation of energy, that the rest of the crowd did not emit.
     What do I do? A fresh surge of panic and an unexplainable fear ran through her, but also an odd sensation of excitement, anticipation and adrenaline.
     Into the woods! He’ll follow you, and then we’ll have him! Gena didn’t question this reasoning and followed the instructions of the strange voice, spinning and dashing on to the forest. She’d gone several dozen steps beyond the first line of trees when she realized that the Sword was in her hands. She didn’t remember drawing it. She slowed and stumbled into a clearing, finding herself near a small lake. We can wait for him here. He’s on his way.
     Sure enough, Gena heard someone moving through the forest toward them. In the moment’s wait before the boy arrived in the clearing, she began to wonder about the strange voice in her head…
     Then he had caught up. The boy stepped into the clearing cautiously, eyeing Gena and slowing to a wary pace. "You don’t need that," he said, indicating the drawn Sword, which had risen to a guard position. "I’m not going to hurt you."
     "Why were you following me?" Gena fought a sudden and nearly overwhelming urge to run the boy through.
     "I sensed you on the street," he answered. "You seemed lost or upset or something. I thought maybe I’d frightened you, so I decided to introduce myself, to put you at ease. Then, when you ran into the woods, I was afraid you’d get lost or hurt. Seeing as you’re new around here and all." He let his observation trail away into silence.
     Gena felt the Sword twitch in her hands and tightened her grip on it. It seemed to have a will of its own, and that will was rather blood-thirsty. When she’d regained control, she noticed the boy studying her curiously.
     "Well, I’m not lost and I’m not hurt, so you can leave now." Her struggle with the Sword wore her concentration and patience thin.
     "Is something wrong? Maybe I can help." The boy stepped forward, reaching out a hand as though to steady her. His action proved fatal. Gena felt the Sword decide that his advance was aggressive, and suddenly Sword and girl were in motion, slashing upward across his torso and stabbing into his stomach.
     It was almost over before it began. He died quickly (Gena was thankful for that) and sank to the ground, sliding off the Sword without further sound. Horrified, Gena stepped back from the corpse. Bile rose in her throat and tears blinded her. Why? Why did you do it?
     Take his head, and we can take his power, the reply came, as blood-thirsty as the urge to strike had been.
     Why would I want to do that? Repulsed, Gena cringed away from the body that so tempted the Sword. It’s not my right – it’s against everything I’ve ever believed! – to kill someone! The fact that the boy lay dead still hadn’t quite caught up with her mind.
     A reluctant pause followed. All right, if you’re that set on it… It paused to give her the opportunity to change her mind. But, really, who ever heard of a Keeper that didn’t kill Ageless?
     Keeper? Ageless? Confused, Gena moved further back, sinking to the ground weakly.
     Oh, that’s right. So often I forget that normal humans don’t tend to know these things. I’m sorry. I see I’ve got some explaining to do. But first, would you mind cleaning me off?
      Gena finally allowed herself to grasp the concept that had presented itself: the Sword was talking to her. Feeling vaguely silly for getting into an argument with a piece of metal, Gena wiped the blade on the grass. She consoled herself by pointing out that the argument had occurred entirely in her mind, so no one had overheard it. When the blade was sufficiently cleaned, she settled in for what would prove to be a very interesting discussion.
     Several hours later, exactly as predicted by the Sword, the boy stirred. His wounds had healed to the point of shallow cuts, sparking sporadically as they regenerated, and now he woke from death as one would a deep slumber. Gently prodding his wounds, he tested out his muscles and opened his eyes, squinting while they adjusted to the glare of the setting sun.
     Gena knew the moment his memory returned to him, as he sat up suddenly, looking around for her. She held her breath, not entirely trusting the Sword's assurance that she wouldn't be found if she didn't want to be. But, as predicted, the boy gave up his search as soon as he'd satisfied himself that she wasn't in sight, and hurriedly left the scene of the accident.
     "Whew... I guess that's over with," Gena said, half to herself, half to the Sword she'd been gripping for the past several hours. "You promise you'll never do that again?"
     Not unless you ask me to, of course... The Sword's response comforted her, but also left a lingering shadow of darkness and doubt in the back of her mind...
Back to the main page