First, let me just say, this is my first shot at drawing a figure, let alone, a warrior. That said, let’s continue this story.

You can read the first part of this story, here.

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It felt as if he were dreaming. Not a normal, sleepy dream, but a vivid, real feeling dream, in real life color. It felt as if he were actually doing what he was dreaming.

He watched as trees passed below him and felt as if something had him wrapped tight, but not too tight. He looked around and saw a white dragon, creating the blizzard and knew that his dream had to be a vision.

Wind was whipping his face, the cold was intensified and he was beginning to feel very scared. This was not like any other dream Hanston had ever had. He couldn’t even imagine why he would dream about a dragon, let alone one causing the storm.

As he began to think on this, he saw fire shoot from above him towards the white dragon, not connecting, but scaring the dragon and stopping the storm. He felt comfortable with this, as if he expected it, but he did not know why.

Then he noticed the golden scales that wrapped around his body, heard the flapping of, what he assumed, were wings. His mind raced as to what could have taken him. He tried to turn, to see what the beast was, but, as he tried to force himself around, blackness began to come over him and he felt comfort, once again.

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As soon as Graderean had seen the boy, he knew what he must do. He scooped the boy up, holding him tightly in his claw, but not enough to harm him.

As he flew towards Jacartha, he shot out a warning flame towards the white dragon, interrupting the storm and scaring her off. He would normally have allowed the storm to run its course, knowing the dragon would just fly off and go somewhere else, but he felt as if he needed to stop it early, this time. As if God’s plan had been fulfilled and the dragons presence was no longer necessary.

As the dragon left, he flew faster to the city. The boys life was at stake and he knew he had to get him to an Inn, quickly.

As he got within walking distance of the city, he changed to human form and carried the boy, to the city gate. He knew this city and which inn’s were reputable, so, he headed to the Dancing Dragon, one of the most reputable.

As he entered, he spotted the owner, a pudgy fellow with graying hair and beard. He walked to him and asked for a room and when all was taken care of, he took Hanston to the room to sleep.

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Hanston woke with a start, sitting straight up with a feeling of intense fear. He was in a bed, with covers on him, a fire in the hearth. It was warm in here. He jumped out of bed and hurried to the other side, where his clothes were hanging to dry and quickly got dressed.

This didn’t make any sense. He didn’t remember walking here, wherever here was and he had no money to get a room, so, why was he here?

He looked around at the room. Small, but bigger than any room he had ever lived in, which would have been the loft at his old home. He had his own fireplace, a bed and a chair and table. He walked over to the window and looked out and saw that people were walking up and down the busy street.

Now he was truly perplexed. His fear was fading, as it seemed he was in a decent place, but he couldn’t shake the confusion and the fact that he was very hungry.

“I should be at the Training academy for the Kings Guard by now, not here.” He said out loud, then he realized he didn’t have his pack, which had food and a letter from his father allowing him to join.

“What do I do now?” He asked out loud, just to hear his own voice. He wasn’t sure what he should do, but, he figured he would go out and see if anyone knew what was going on.

He opened the door, saw the stairs and ran down, to see where he was. As he came to the last step, he saw the tables and the bar and realized he must be in an Inn.

“Good day, young sir,” A voice from behind the bar bellowed, “Have you come for supper, then? Your friend said you would be very hungry when you woke.” He laughed.

“Aye, that I am, good sir, but it seems as if I have no money, nor my pack. I have no way to pay.” Hanston said, feeling embarrassed.

“Pay? Why, all has been arranged by Grady!” The barkeep said, “Now come, eat, let your worries take care of themselves for the evening.”

Hanston sat and was immediately served a hot plate of food. A cup was placed in front of him and the barkeep stood there, waiting for his to start. He contemplated who the ‘Grady’ was the Inn keeper was speaking about and how he had gotten here.

“You’ll like this food, boy, we have the best cook this side of the Marhojanic River.” He said with a wink and scurried off to the other side of the bar to help another customer.

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The officer stared at the letter intently, as if searching each word for hidden meaning. He slowly lifted his gaze to Graderean and lowered the letter. A look of satisfaction on his face.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Grady.” He said low, “I’ve always known you to be an honest fella’, hard working and very thoughtful of others, so, I’ll do you a favor and take this to the General myself.”

He looked back down at the letter and smiled.

“If what’s in here is only half true, the General would be a fool not to train this boy.” With that, he turned and walked towards the great meeting hall.

“My thanks, Major Tarken, may you be blessed beyond measure for this.” Graderean said, then turned towards the inner city once again.

As he walked, he found the weapon smith still open and turned in.

When the smith entered the storeroom, he saw Graderean and smiled,” Long time, Grady, long time. What brings you to my little store?”

“It is very good to see you, Serdain, may you be blessed mightily, it has been a very long time.” He said, then, “I need a short sword, one that is strong in design, but plain. Something that only the holder would know of its true value.”

Serdain slowly turned to his sword rack, an intense look upon his bearded face. He moved along the rack,  touching several, even lifting a few, before finally grabbing up one and lifting it out to inspect. After a minute or so, he turned around and went back to the counter and handed the sword over.

“Here she is, Grady. A fine piece of work, in the fact that She is very strong, light and holds an edge better than I have ever seen.” He smiled at the sword, then, in the middle of his sentence, it turned to a frown. “I almost threw her back in the fire to be melted down yesterday, because of her plainness. No one ever seemed to want her.” A glisten in his eyes formed as he spoke,” But I felt I should keep it a little longer, that it had more purpose than I, or anyone else, could see. Will she do?” He handed the sword over.

Graderean accepted the sword, looking it over carefully, weighing it in his hand and finally said,” I think this is perfect. Exactly what is needed. What is her name, my friend?”

A smile formed on his bearded face as Serdain spoke, “Her name is Sherniad, after my own wife, as her beauty reaches farther than what is on the outside and her usefulness to the owner will be matched by nothing else. She has a special name, for a special sword, I thought it only right to name her such. What do you think?”

“The name is perfect, my friend. She shall be treated with care, of that you can be assured and she shall be regarded with high value.” Grady spoke with compassion and awe, “She shall have a revered place in history. Do you have a sheath?”

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I will be writing a bit more on this, and will let you know when it is ready, but after this, I may be posting some of my other short stories first. I hope you have enjoyed it so far.

 

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