A Story by Axel Wright

A 10 Page war story with an unusual protagonist.




   The lords above rule the world below. It is what we were taught by our masters-the mortal soldiers of war. Troops look beyond to the vast powers, which reign upon their days seeing kings and captains. What we see are the stars.


   Words of wisdom whisper that the destiny of men, of all things, is embedded in the skys sparks shiny surface. It is written all the way up there, at a place so distant no one can even dare to reach it-the heavens of the darkest night. And sometimes, I just ask myself how it is they glisten on the spot, untouchable, for long countless years and they never change, not a bit.


   Fireflies that cannot fly, I wonder, thinking of the fates of everyone, fates just as motionless, fates irreversible and solid. Lives last to end as they were meant to, as the stars decided.  


   And then the time comes when they all go out.  


   I have seen some move, I really have. One once dived in crossing the horizon with that great tail of silver burning light. Some warriors say this miracle happens when a dream is fulfilled. To all others it marks one thing alone-a lifes end …I wish I knew for sure. I wish that so much.   



    Nightfall had arrived long before my master drew me from the scabbard. Men train for battle following the blight midnight hours before dawn comes down. They do so not out of discipline or commands. When death flies by locking the shackles of fright and uncertainty upon everybodys senses sleep befalls harder than usual if not at all for in the morning the fray begins.   


   My kind serves yours. We bleed with sparks and we do not breathe so the Reaper visits us much more rarely. Were alive but you know it not. We talk to each other but you cant hear us. The metal we are made of is taken from the very bowels of the earth. Through it we hear and see the world. Our creators build our bodies amidst the fires of the forge. And so we obey.


   By the force of some inexplicable magic every time a creature approaches us its feelings, its thoughts become as if ours. 


   Many of my species take it as a burden, unnecessary and pointless. To me it is something special, precious. Through it my father, my creator turned into my dearest fellow. A noble person, a fearless warrior, one who aids those in need regardless of dangers or desire he has proven to be.


   I am lifeless, stone cold and lethal, not a loyal friend, my brothers would say.  


   Yet, as Master crafted me he carved in my blade the word “Protect”. Protect, not kill.


   And so I must. Stars chose to cast us in despair and sorrow but it matters not. I embrace happiness at the sight of that of others not at the wounds inflicted on my foes.


   We will come and we shall help. That is how I am. How daddy is.


   He knelt turning his back to the constellations and the black clouds illuminated outlines. Now I realized his face was drenched with worry, his breath was in a hurry and what he was about to say was bad.  


“They are coming” he spoke “Ours is the last force that stands on their way to our land. We won’t retreat. We collide tomorrow. There is no help, no turning back” his eyes grew grim.


   He was not a coward, not a chance in hell for that. But there is one thing that unites the bold hearted and the weak-the will to return home. That was his wish and his solemn fear-what would happen should he fails to survive, was tearing him apart. Losing everything-to walk his sons by the river, by the trees of green, to put them to sleep with stories of beauty and hope where love, not rancor, stays the strongest. 


   Times went too dark and now in his hands he had a weapon, not the ones he loved.   


   Oh, I miss the children. I remember, as surely he does, that night of daunting departure.


“Look, lions. This is my sword” Father presented me long ago in a night like this. The kids watched my ferocious outlook, the blue gem on my hilt, the silver iron as a true wonder. Yes, they liked me very much.


“You have to help” I sensed within his sight the sudden icy, nearly unbearable shivers of grief hitting him. “It is not strong enough yet…But if you put your hands in a prayer like this…and wish for the best…then it will become forever strong and it will guard me to no end…So that one day…” he paused as if he had no strength left to go on ”…we can always be together” he bent and hugged them “Always, I promise…”


   I didnt know if it was yet another story of fantasy or not, but I had never felt more excited and afraid. It was as if Master had one more child around him.


   They closed their hands at the exact same moment. Two innocent, careless, thoroughly pure souls touched mine. The three wishes in the familys minds struck me unexpectedly.


“…Protect daddy…Protect daddy…Let me see them again. Oh, Lord, I beg of you, please, let me, let me…”


   I understood the other day, when the fighter jumped upon the saddle of his stallion and rode to the front lines. He was saying farewell. That promise? It is as much mine as it is his. It is my oath. 


 “All right, friend. Now we play” Master said standing up and spun me. I swished from one side to another and little by little I started to sing. The air is soft and bendable. The low, fast, harmonic melody of me piercing it is my deathly song. Imagine a honey birds voice and deprive it of the warmth in its humming. Its the music dads nemesis listen to before they go.


…That was the very last time we trained…



   No sooner had I woken up, early at the birth of the new day, than I was flying in the air towards waters cold touch. It is an every soldiers ritual-cleaning the gore out of their weaponry before heading into the next battle. For that I am grateful. Once weapons contact flesh they bring nothing less than searing pain. What blood stains do is letting us experience their owners last thoughts after the final blow over and over again unless being washed away.


   Stainless, I abandoned the diamond liquids realm nostalgically as I was pulled out of the basin. In there it feels like a tranquil reverie. I would swim in one until I rust although I cant do the latter. There is this ultimate law harassing me that the only ones who earned eternal rest are the corpses placed two feet underground in rotten, worm-infested coffins.


   Master and his company were hundreds of steps from the battlefield on a slightly high hillside of the camps territory bearing a clear view to the engaging armies. The ground shook in strict rhythm in accordance with the war march of the coming hordes. A horn blew proclaiming the start of the next vicious clash. In the distance the Vikings came into sight and dread fouled the air around like poison. Numerous to no bounds, with their war machines on the background casting fire and stone, nothing inflicted more terror as their perfectly synchronized battle shouts which sounded like a beast roaring formidably in an immense colossal threat:


Death! Death! Death! Death! Death! Death!


   The initial wave of our forces clashed with theirs and the nerve-freezing symphony of annihilation enveloped the vicinity. Master ignored the slaughter and turned to his men:


“I forbid you to be afraid! I forbid you to doubt! Those b******s won’t cry so loud when their heads turn airborne” he slashed a cross in the air with me to put the worries inside of him to a halt.


   In a minute, I was left next to a brother of mine I knew well. His brutal appearance inspired respect and yet I had little, nearly none for him.


“Do you listen to that?” the mace talked harshly, arrogantly. “Their weapons don’t scream, they roar maliciously. You think you can save your buddy from this?” his words weighed with irony.


“I stand my own. Always have” my firm answer was “Master will live one way or another.”


“He is an absolute dead man. That sign you’re proud of wont change a damn thing.”


“I have heard this a lot before” it was all I wanted to say right then. The mace went on:


“You know what I’ve heard? That those things over there” it meant the enemies “…would strap a giant rock through chain for a piece of thick wood and call it a spinning club. Now thats wild...”


The foes horn reverberated, they pressed on and our soldiers heartbeats sped up.   


“You won’t let go, right?” the mace asked. “You are used to fighting the laws of nature.”


“Nature has nothing to do with murder” I tried to silence him again. It didn’t work.


“Look around” he replied “Everybody’s killing and no one wants it any other way. It is just you.”


The Viking King ordered a new attack-his razor-sharp voice resounded malevolently.


“You want to live with your maker in peace, you want to see those whelps of his again, I know. But death is right there, coming for us, can you deny it...?”


   The mace spoke with staggering assurance and I realized now with the thought of the end in my mind that all this time spent on war inexorable edge I felt more scared about my daddys life than any other and I never pictured a day without him.


“Warriors come here with blind faith in victory alone. They come to die. One can’t change anything without paying a price. The higher the jump the harders the fall. You are a hand and a half piece of iron. How great a sacrifice do you expect to make to save a defeated soldier from his doom?”


   I didnt ask him and yet he stopped talking. Could he feel sorry for me?


   The first line of our defense was left scorched and devastated. Our second wave was about to interfere. The Norse were fighting like machines. A swing from their clubs meant a life destroyed.    


“We enter soon” Master announced as steadily as possible. His men walked back quietly. Each of them claimed their equipment. I was taken back in the sheath were suffocating doubt born out of the mace’s merciless honesty was my one companion.



   I left my sanctuary shortly after and I found myself at the very place where most of my brothers were born. Three spacious furnaces growled with fires inside of them whizzing out of control. Hammers hit the anvils and the potent crashes made us deaf for the raging chaos outside. The armory is our birthright, where lost courage and the will to act can be found.


“Come now, I want you to fight today like never before” dad uttered with a smile. “I want you to make them pray for forgiveness, all right? You will not break. Neither will I. Come on…”


   Luminous refulgence blazed in the blackness-scarlet red rumbling from the dancing playful tireless flames and purely golden jets from the holes in the tiny buildings roof, raining from the morning skies, cutting through the ruby gloom of the edifice.


“Hey” I heard a familiar greeting. We were in front of the military grindstones which were spinning against the edges of axes and spears spawning sparkles across the floor. I was just next to a sword the same length as mine with an emerald stone on the pommel. My fellow’s lord was in line behind several other swordsmen next to mine. Friends as well, they began talking.


“Everyone thinks we’re going to die” the other sword laughed at me. Awkwardly I felt amused.


“The mace tried to have me convinced just now” I pointed out. “It was a good try by the way.”


“What did the freak say?” my buddy asked and so he was told of that implacable speech.


“He can not be right.” I shared “All he wants is to spill guts around, doesn’t he? He cant be.”


“Of course he is wrong” the weapon replied and doubt arose in his tone right away. “Hey, you know the general’s brother-the one who had a heavy claymore. They called him “The Invincible”?” 


“Yes. He will be on the front lines today, right?” as I remembered consolation shrouded me.


“His body was just brought back” my fellow replied. “The claymore is shattered in five”


   I saw Master accepting the news of that death from his human comrade. How would I be like if I had eyes to tremble, fists to clutch and chest to boom rapidly in times of bitter anxiety, I asked myself?


“Okay” I responded. “You tell me too that we’re all goners? Is that it?”


“I say things end and begin at their own course and when it’s soldiers time to go than it is, Blady.”


“I am not leaving dad to the Reaper alone. I go with him, remember?” I declared and my friend laughed.


“Wouldn’t you?” I questioned him despondently “Why live on at all if Masters gone?”


“I don’t know…” the swords kind voice retained “…because life goes on. Thats why. At least”


“No. If he and his children are gone no life remains, nothing for me, nothing for them...” 


“There are many others to protect besides your maker, Blady. He’s not the only one.”


“May be. But he is the best. And so are the little ones. So are we-those who fight for good not those who say the world is evil and there is no such thing as light in the dark. We are weapons and everyone says we ought to destroy but I say this is wrong, that if we are purposed to purge and burn then we must change. I want to be different and I won’t give up. I am different, buddy” I spoke eagerly “On the battlefield how many people have I saved and how few have I crushed? Thanks to Master. He doesnt deserve to die, neither do I…Nor you.” I added in the end as I felt that I grow too selfish in my talk. My fellow laughed for a third time.   


“Yeah…well…” the emerald-gem-sword said “No one pays rightful justice to the noble or the wicked. We are simply leaves in the river, the flow of which can take us most likely anywhere but not to the sought safe shores. I want you to be okay. I don’t care if one man dies. ”


“Wait and enter with me.” I didn’t listen to him “You know you will be okay next to us. Daddy has a secret weapon remember?” I encouraged him “Were not leaves. Were god damn eagles.”


“You will be all right.” my friend replied. His maker and mine shook hands and tapped each other on the shoulder pads. In their gazes glared “Goodbye”. “I got to go. Hey, you see the craftsman’s hammer over there?” I set my eyes upon it. It was crude and big. “Thats for the Reaper in case he says “Hi”, okay?”


    I comprehended ruefully what he was asking of me. I knew he would do the same. I agreed. 


    So my buddys company formed up outside…and courageously marched into oblivion.



   I took my fellows place and my sharpening begun. The grindstone twists slowly and incessantly. It builds up in every little part of me a beastly portion of frivolous energy-deviant and delirious, daring to denounce the dimmest distraught of the deadly danger coming for us.


   Here those things which are right and all the others that are wrong are being forsaken and all that is left of us is shining shaped steel in fighters fingers.  


   Dots of light flew out of me as the grinding commenced. I bled but it didnt hurt. No, there is a long way from this and the swing of a heavy spiked axe or a catapult boulder blasting all in its path. How critically a Vikings spinning club hits? Can it smash you in pieces at first contact?


   Come now, nothing can put an end to me so easily. I was taken from the highest mountain peaks. I was melted in the hottest fire. I was tempered in the frozen waters of the winter lakes. 


   They say the Reaper wears a black cloak and even owns a scythe of his own…It can never break, can it? And how on earth can its bearer fall into harm? A damn lucky scythe that is, I think.


   How to protect Master now when everybody abandons hope, when it wanes before my sight and fades in my thoughts? People pray to the crosses they wear around their necks. What should I pray to? Who would ever hear me? Me?


   I cant do this because I am weak, because its too much for me, although I crave it with all of my heart? Or most would ask “What heart?” The mace once told me about it: “Ever thought about the horror in the eyes of those who suffer losses-light or crucial? Dont you just feel any burden flying away when you imagine how vicious is the human heart and what comfort is that we have none?”


   Perhaps that sign meant nothing may be it professed mere deception, may be only pain was waiting for me if I didnt stop my tireless struggle. Let go, everybody was saying, you cant go on. Let go.



   “Third waves amassing! Everybody line up!”


   The battle had summoned us. Master started walking to the exit along with me. Hidden shock was drowning him. It was as if the party his friend was included in had lasted just for a few moments. I tried to spot the great hammer somewhere behind me but it was nowhere to be seen. No wounded were coming back on foot from that last confrontation on the war field. None…


   Outside, the sun barely glistened at the horizon. The bright blue ocean of the skies stood still and broad blank clouds sailed in it. Soldiers were running forward with their armors clanging on them, their weapons voices unnaturally quiet. Dad was supposed to unveil the banner of his company high so his troops can gather around him. He was searching for his fellow. He didnt find anything. And it stayed that way for so long. We cast a glance upon them when the rows of our company were already forming up and were in preparation to march.


   The survivors were carried on stretchers made of leather and wooden branches. A long blood trail of miniature flecks tinted the earth marking the defeated warriors return road. Close ones and relatives rushed to the small colon of half-dead and crippled. Daddy sighed in his hardly suppressed torture following the watchers, striding by the line of dying forcing his eyes to track each and every pale face.


   He wanted to point his gaze somewhere else. So did I. And then, in a moment infected by affliction, a flash of green burst from somewhere behind the spectators. We saw it and called our friends by name. No answer. Not a word. Father ran the last meters that were parting him from his buddy.


   When a fighter dies, three things pave his path to the afterlife-the prayer for his soul so that his spirit can find peace, the breaking of his weapon so that bad memories can die out and the Reapers greeting.


   At first, I didnt see the sword. Only the hilt was visible-it was concealed under the arm of its creator. His face was altered. It had one eye, one ear-thats all I could distinguish. The rest of it didnt look the same. The chain-plate on his breast was ripped, torn in ten different ways. He was covered in cuts and cureless bruises from head to toes.


   It wasnt simply another man on the road. It was the one who gave life to my fellow. The gore and the filth that was covering him were upon the green gem. I could not speak. I didnt know what to do.


   His look radiating torment and insanity, Master bowed and spread his hands to the front. They quaked when the Vikings horn bellowed again and yet he took his friend in his arms lifting him up with devilish exertion. He sheathed my buddy in my home. He grumbled from weariness and woe and moved. The general was soon to lead the rest of his army against the enemy king but my lord strolled in the opposite direction-to the camp. My fellow didnt talk. Seconds shed.


“Farewell. Forgive me brother” I heard Master say as he left the body on the ground“…forever and now.”


“Where is the hammer?” my friend had spoken. I was petrified to the bones “I saw the Reaper. Truth to be told, there isn’t really something to be afraid of. Never fear, okay?“


“I’m sorry, buddy. I am so sorry” I kept on mumbling. I felt completely needless. I looked back. My lord had the craftsmans hammer. Thats why I failed to see it. He raised it steadily grasping my fellow with his free arm to hold him firmly in place.


“You know, I was thinking that I’ll be meeting you again. Very soon” I managed to say. 

”Ha” my friend exclaimed before the strike. ”I would be really glad. But then …what will happen to you, or your two little lions, or their daddy? You hold your own, okay? Never give up on anything especially yourself if you got something worth fighting for…And what you have is priceless. Blady, I say goodbye.”


   The hammer possessed in its assault side sharp fortified spikes which tear the metal like a knife slicing paper. It fell atrociously: a shower of sparks flew out of my buddy at every side bating Masters hands; a great clang erupted and when stillness restored itself my fellow I talked to every endless day from the eternity in which life has chained us together, was gone, split where struck.


   Before it was over the two of us were abandoned…We were alone.



   Back in our tent, daddy acquired his hidden weapon, the one I mentioned in the armoury. Apart from me that was his advantage in the course of duelling opponents, it was the reason people know him as the one who fights but never destroys, a foe who magically grants you safety.


   He forged it himself-a glove of silver steel that fits his fist perfectly. Attached with smooth fur from inside it deals no damage to the wearer who if throws a direct punch, armed this way, sends the enemy unconscious. Rarely does it feed the Reaper. Regardless, a fallen soldier under this instruments thunder saves not only the life of an enemy but also me and father from the malice of the kill.           


   A powerful warrior you would say must vanquish every single enemy he faces on the field. The greatest warrior I assure you can bring them all down without dealing harm, emerging triumphant even over death.


   “Lets go…” he picked up the banner of his company. Dad sprinted to his warriors letting me shine under the late dawn. Fully armed and ready, they raised hands in a gesture of welcoming him. He entrenched the flag on his back, gripped tightly his shield and gave a mark to the group to move out.


   “I want you to know that our families, our friends, our home will stay safe till the end of time. In this I swear and let me burn in hell if what I say is a lie. Form up!” he never told lies, never and they all knew it.


   Masters unit arranged in front of the dozen similar parties that structured the third wave of the generals attack. The supreme commander came immediately. It was him that our unit was supposed to defend. He raised his golden spear and let out a wrathful battle cry that trapped in a cage for a shred of a moment any part of the colossal fear pulsing in our lungs.


   The army responded properly. Satisfied, the general rode out and pointed his forces to the battlefront. Daddy aligned with him stepping nimbly like his stallion, staring at the mass of barbarians trying to distinguish the king. I was going to meet their spinning clubs. I heard a hoarse snigger behind me. The mace was guarding my back.


“Blady, isn’t that right?” a solid voice filled my consciousness. The generals spear had addressed me.


“Um, yes, that’s right, my lord” I had never shared a word with him. I didnt know I was allowed.


“They call you “The Protector”?” I confirmed that with a humble unease. “Do not accept shame upon yourself because of what you are” he uncovered my emotions somehow “I heard that you are the toughest weapon in the land. That you and your maker are capable of putting down a hundred soldiers and spill not a drop of blood. I’m proud that youre next to me…and a little relaxed.”…That did lift my spirit.


“I am obliged to tell you though. Today you will have to let go of mercy. We’ll be journeying farther in the shadowy valleys of the Reapers kingdom, farther than ever before. And you have to be by my side. I feel hope is deserting you.“ The spear guessed right again. ”We clash in a minute-you cannot sing like this”


“I always sing like this. I can’t stand to kill. I cant stand the closing thoughts of people leaving....”


“You got no choice. None of us do. One king has said “They will pay the price”. From then on, nothing can be set back. You and I were chosen to be here, right now, on two hundred meters from what we’ve feared all our lives. This is fate smiling. You couldnt have changed that.”


   The Vikings wore helmets each of which had two horns on the side. Chunks of rocks hang on massive chains tied for what was supposed to be the handles of their weapons. They were stamping the corpses of those previously put down while racing towards us. 


“There are these two little kids. My bearers” I shared “Do you know what the most beautiful thing I have ever seen is? Its the three of them together, laughing, hugging, playing-with them it feels that all this is a very long nightmare. Its another world…At times I wonder whether I would be cruel and selfish like my brothers if I never saw home...because without it I would have nothing, nothing worth to move on for.”


“No. You have yourself and this small black world that’s part of you. You dont want it? All right” he said hearty “One makes the choice for his life so that others cannot do it for him. And they shouldnt.  


The soldiers braced themselves for the crash. The King pointed his weapons tip straight ahead.


“It’s just that…one day…you look back…to where you were…remembering all that have come to pass. You have struggled on and on…and matter how much you have lost and how much more you are ready to lose for what you long realize…things just cannot be any other way, they cant change, they wont” he felt silent for a blinks time “And yet” elation lit his voice ”we fight on. Dont we?”


“Well…” I looked at the spear-it was beaming joyfully for some obscure reason “Yes. We do.” I agreed.


“Death!” one meter before the collision the Vikings roared once more. 



   The generals horse jumped-each hoof hit an enemy. They fell-their spines cracking. A club hurled for Masters head. The silver fist breached the foes jaw and he, no matter how muscular and fierce, fell to the ground. A man damaged but saved. Dads warriors advanced forward. Nearly ten of them collapsed on the spot. Scarlet splashes flew to every side, the gritty storm of the carnage around us sparked off wrapping us neck to neck. The general dismounted after the horse was killed and impelled the next three Norse he saw.


   The Vikings were fast and brutally energetic. My lord put to rest five more enemies. He couldnt escape the club of the sixth and raised the shield which exploded at the strike. The shiny glove couldnt help. I was swung hacking the armour of the man, an untraceable moment later his skin as well, then the muscles and the stomach. He dropped on the ground, his mad shock excruciating me.


“Come on!!!” the spear urged me. Our leader shouted the same thing to his warriors and we continued.


   A barbarian wielding two spinning clubs stepped forward, his stare blood thirst. Each one of his weapons flew at Master and the general. They ducked and stroke simultaneously. I and the spear took the life of the Viking together.


“Good!!!” the spear cried to me. The man spun and fell on his back. All of a sudden I turned out to be closer to the general and his spear to my bearer. Before I understood what was going on and how to get back in father’s hands he took possession of the spear and I was claimed by the commander.


   He was pitiless. His mind was rich in anger and the will for retribution for the ones who threaten his men. Metal, flesh and bones were being blasted away from every Viking who was brave enough to meet the two mighty fighters in lead. I have never flown so ferociously, so unconditionally deadly, spitting devastation with such unparalleled knack. The leader laughed as he ended lives. The Norse were innumerable; our general was glorious. Thats what still held the scales and kept our soldiers still breathing.


   The leader tired after a hundred dead or so. I was going frenzy-inside of me there was a whirlpool of shouts and pleads and memories of harmony-the last ever in the victims minds. That mixed together and it was like music from hell. That is where I thought I was. 


“Damn good weapon, soldier!” he praised me to dad who hurried to throw back the spear to him. As I returned to my lord I felt limitless gratification. The heart-sick nostalgia of his cleared my mind. Even better-as soon as he got me back he grasped his cloak and wiped the blood out of me with it.


   The nemesis crushed our flanks easily. We could hear their strident shouts surrounding us. Despair spread out but we didnt let it in. The golden spear shone marvellously. Our troops stared at it and they knew their commander still lives, still fights on and hope is not ash yet although it might turn into such very soon.


   In an instant, out of nowhere, with no prediction whatsoever, a spinning club swooshed through the open space before the general contacting his spear. It splashed apart, flaring gold flying totally alike the sparks from that hammer finishing my buddy. The general fell back his arms splayed.


   The Viking King had arrived. He lifted his weapon again to squish the life out of our warlord. Master jumped forward. I was quick as light; cut off, the chain of the Vikings spinning club departed its handle. Outraged from the survival of his target, the enemy drew out an imposing two hand sword, wide and destructive at sight, covered in unreadable runes. It laughed out loud in fiendish cheerless exultation.


“Death for the weak. That’s what it says. ” the sword told me condescendingly. The king attacked daddy.


   I met the strike and the daylight faded, thorough nothingness dropped down on me, the clash between us was culminant-nothing else felt so physically crushing, so agonizingly heavy, I lost knowledge of where I was, what I was. I felt my body deform as it never did before. Then brightness flashed around, sounds were reborn. I saw sparkles protruding from me and dad spinning from the force of the strike. I got the feeling it was over for him and so over for me.


   Then I understood it was not. My blade was simply bent a bit not like a straight sword but more like a saber, you know. I just had a new look, it wasnt something that can get you killed, can it now?


   Father wasnt thrown off balance and he prepared to attack with his silver fist just as I sensed the enemy swords amazement that I had stayed a whole. The rune-printed weapon stroke again. However, before it could gain enough speed it bumped into my makers iron fist which crumbled, falling apart into small pieces. But it stopped its charge and then I was swung fearsomely at the kings overstretched arm.


   The kings hand was cut down. The enemy sword fell off. Master landed his foot on it furiously halving it. The general broke out into a triumphant cry. The others didnt know what was going on but as soon as they all heard it a victorious echo called back. Father looked at the kings eyes.  


“DOWN!” he didn’t want to kill him. He was giving him a chance “ON YOUR KNEES!”


   Desperate, the king spat and tried to snatch a knife from his belt. Daddy took him. I directly pierced the heart…And just like that, a very young girl with long brown curly hair, glistening eyes brimming with tears and a lonely smile emerged in front of me.


   The Viking leader crashed down. His minions, totally dispirited took a step back, and then retreated. That little girl was still there. I just couldnt force her out of my mind, I needed to be cleaned.

”Incoming! Everybody! Watch out!” the general yelled in panic right next to us. A ballista missile fell ten meters away taking about fifteen of our men. Another almost hit the general. The third flew at dad.    


   He acted on instinct; there was nothing he could do. He was dead; it was a gigantic iron arrow, two times the size of the golden spear, a hundred times more powerful…But I was on its way and it was okay.


   A man in black, a mystical person, without skin, without eyes, tall and enigmatic appeared there, as if out of thin air. He caught the missile and looked at me. He smiled. In his right hand the scythe was glowing.

”He doesn’t know who he must take, mortal. He is confused. Well?”


That girl was all I could see but right next to it sat Masters children. The three of them waved to me.


“Take me” the Reaper was surprised but nonetheless he nodded and smiled once again. He placed the edge of his scythe at the point where I was about to brake letting the great iron arrow go.


“You are very brave, Blady.” the scythe told me and it and Death vanished. The missile rebounded. A waterfall of sparkles streamed from me. Master fell to the ground alive and well, his heart throbbing…    


   The sun was going to wake up too late I guess; the heavens were so bright that morning, the moon still beaming blue and clear. And then as I was watching the skies, I realized the girl in my head was the fallen kings daughter, the one thing he thought about when I took his life making her tears fall for all times and that gorgeous smile forever sad. I had broken a fathers promise to go back home, to play with her again, to find her flowers from the Blue Mountains, to teach her how to dance and how to sing , to tell her the end of the story about the girl with the golden dress, to take her to the biggest castle there is on earth, to make her princess, to make her laugh as many times as she wishes for, to kiss her once for every night he wasnt there with her, to take her with a boat to the Diamond sea and across it, to tell her that it is all okay, to dry her eyes one last time and may be more, to protect her from ever weeping again, ever…


   Right then, right there, it happened. A star, free and flaming like a true firefly, wonderful and splendid as an impossible dream, descended in a lightning pace and lost itself somewhere in the misty clouds.


   I wished to know the answer so much. You cant imagine. And perhaps a moment before I was gone, I did. The three children smiled and I was thinking: “Stars dont fall every night or maybe they do but how many lives leave and how few dreams ever come true.” Master was going home. 



© 2013 Axel Wright

Author's Note

Axel Wright
Thanks for reading. If you happen to read it whole, please let me know what you think :)

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register


Excellent! I loved your unique protagonist and point of view. I also liked the explanation for how the sword could feel the thoughts and memories of those it injured, and you included beautiful descriptions of things and just the right amount of detail for the battle scenes - enough so I could follow what was happening, yet still feel the chaos and confusion of the fight. This could still use some editing (isn't that always the truth?) but all in all this is a wonderful story!

Posted 10 Years Ago

Share This
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


1 Review
Added on July 21, 2013
Last Updated on July 21, 2013
Tags: sword, hero, battle, army, children, dream, impossible


Axel Wright
Axel Wright

Plovdiv, Plovdiv, Bulgaria

I live in the Balkans, Easter Europe, Bulgaria, the city of Plovdiv, and I've just finished 12th grade. Thanks in advance for all of your reviews and comments. more..

Confidence Confidence

A Story by Axel Wright