The Sword Summoner: History Repeats

The trap door was suddenly thrown open and a man’s head popped out. “Oi! What the hell going on? I’m trying to sleep, you inconsiderate pigs.”

Sarah looked to where the man making all the commotion was and froze. Anger rose within her. “Y-you. I-it’s you. YOU!” she screamed.

The man looked over to Sarah and flinched. He made to quickly go back down into the basement like a rodent scurrying back into its hole after sighting an eagle. Sarah grabbed him by the hair, hauled him out of the hole, then threw him against a wall. The other slaves looked on in fear and amusement. Many of the older slaves looked surprised, some even showing anger towards the man. Lieutenant Gapon looked ready to strike out at him the second that Sarah let him loose.

“You traitor! You cold hearted scumbag! You Sprite rejected waste of air!” roared Sarah at the man’s face.

“Hi honey,” replied the man weakly. Sarah’s hand hit him in the face with a satisfying slap sound.

“I’ll show you ‘hi honey’ in a minute!” she screamed, drawing back her hand for another attack. The man visibly flinched.

Sarah’s hand was stopped mid swing. Maklar held her arm with one hand, his slender fingers digging into her skin. He pulled her back with immense ease which showed strength far exceeding what his thin arms should have been capable of exerting.

“Fighting, unless for a master’s amusement or by a superior's orders, is strictly prohibited,” droned Maklar. “This is a very poor start for you, slave-068. As punishment, your quarters will be in the under level,” he motioned to the trap door that the man had emerged from.

She gave the man in her grasp a death glare then stomped down the ladders at Maklar’s beckoning. The man stepped around and headed outside unhindered by the guards.

Sarah found herself in a large, circular room with a few mats laid on the ground that she guessed were the beds. That was the only contents of the whole room other than some discarded clothes that littered the floor around a well used mat. The walls and ground were plain earth. A single lit torch was fixed onto the wall beside the ladder.

She guessed that the bed in the centre of the clothes belonged to the man so she chose the bed furthest away from that and lay on her back, finally resting her tired feet. Her mind wandered through different thoughts and feelings. Anger and confusion filled her mind at the sudden appearance of that damned man. Eventually she slipped into an uneasy sleep filled with all her waking doubts and fears.

The world was in darkness. Even the pale face of the moon was hidden behind a solid wall of clouds. The mournful cry of a nocturnal bloodbird sounded nearby that broke the unnatural silence.

Blake Hunter walked slowly towards the slave quarters in deep thought. When the new troop of slaves had arrived it had turned his life upside down. Again. His life had been turned upside down so many times that he no longer knew the sky from the ground.

He had done nothing wrong yet that woman from his past had hit him anyway. Then that damned fool Maklar had put her in the same room as him for trying to kill him. Logic was not something the freak seemed to understand.

The door opened with the faintest of creaks as Blake stepped inside. Everyone in the room was asleep but they all looked to be suffering from nightmares. Blake could sympathise with them. He remembered his first few months in this hell hole. He got off easy compared to most but fate had made up for that by keeping him here nearly fifteen years. The rest usually died before five years had passed.

He made his way down the steps and found the woman asleep on the mat furthest away from his own. He sighed and sat upon his mat. From a tattered bag under his uncomfortable pillow Blake removed a small mirror. Its surface was scratched terribly but it still served its purpose.

Through its reflective surface he gazed upon the familiar face. His long brown hair that had become black due to the foul air that surrounded him for over a decade was overgrown, untidy and knotted. His brown eyes, once so bright and full of life were now empty shells of what they had once been. The scar across his face was as prominent as ever.

“No use on dwelling on the past,” he muttered to himself as he put the mirror back into the bag. He lay down, looked over to the women and sighed again. With a small smile still on his face sleep took him.

A blood curdling scream split the air, pulsing through the very soul of any who heard it. Sarah was ripped from her disturbed sleep by the tortured sound and after regaining her wits looked around the room. It was the same as before she had slept. Either the traitor had been a coward and slept elsewhere or he had come down after she had fallen asleep and left before she had awoken.

She was snapped from her thoughts by the creaking of the trap door opening. Maklar lowered himself down into the room.

“I hope this day finds you well, Slave-068.” His voice was already giving her a headache.

“What was that scream just now?” Sarah asked.

“That is the morning call. Each day when the sun should just be spotted on the horizon a slave is taken to the castle battlements and whipped. When you hear the scream, vacate your bed and head to your designated task.”

“A bell would suffice,” Sarah muttered. Then to Maklar she asked, “And what is my designated task?”

“You will be taken outside with the other slaves and the Masters shall decide your tasks,” he answered then began to climb back up the ladders. Sarah followed.

The ground floor was empty of slaves and the only sound was that of her own footsteps that echoed loudly. Maklar’s footfalls were disturbingly silent. They exited the building and found the other slaves stood in ranks on an empty section of land that resembled a courtyard. Sarah was ushered into her place by Maklar.

Stationed on all sides of the slaves were Forukk guards. At the front of the slaves were several humans who were most definitely not slaves. Sarah recognised a few of them. Stood at the far left were Mr Xion and the young lad Derrick Rol, or Sharkey as he preferred to be called. Both wore the same ornate black clothes as the other humans who Sarah supposed were the “Masters” that Maklar had spoken of.

“Get into rank Slave-001,” came a growl that drew Sarah’s attention. She looked around to find the source of the disturbance.

“The name’s Blake. You understand that, dogface?” retorted a slave that stood leant against the barracks.

“Typical,” mumbled Sarah. “He was always a troublemaker.” Sarah’s thoughts were broken as a new person arrived at the centre of the ‘Masters’. He wore a cloak of twisted feathers and armour of darkened steel. Sarah’s heart seemed to stop when she realised that she recognised the man’s face.

“Blake, get into line. It will only take a few minutes and I know you have nothing better to do with your time,” snapped the man. Blake slowly headed to his place in the line, the whole time mumbling about having lots of better things to do with his time, like sleeping.

The caped man then addressed the crowd of slaves before him. “I am Lord Zendek, ruler of this land and now ruler of all of you. The rules here are simple. You either serve or you die. Any questions so far?” No one spoke. “Okay then. The Masters will pick your fates.

Serve them well.” He fell silent as his eyes met with Sarah’s. Sarah did not breathe the whole time they had eye contact. Blake noticed the look on Zendek’s face.

“Leave the lady alone and get on with your job so we can get this over and done with,” Blake shouted.

“You’re in no position to order me to do anything,” sneered Zendek venomously.

“I never was but I still won the first time around,” replied Blake with a cocky smirk.

Anger contorted Zendek’s face briefly before he regained control of himself. “I believe that much has changed since then. Bring this fine woman to my quarters and if my friend here tries anything you may show him the error of his ways.” He turned to leave but then faced Blake with a smile and added “Me and Sarah are just going to reminisce on old times so you have nothing to worry about.”

“You scum!” roared Blake as he charged towards the two Forukks who were leading Sarah to Zendek. He tackled the closest one but was easily overpowered by the creature. It held him securely while the second delivered a powerful blow to his stomach. Coughing blood he tried to free himself but failed. Another punch hit him and he went limp. The Forukk holding him loosened its hold on him only to be head butted in its ugly snout.

Sarah joined in the fight by kicking the beast that had punched Blake where its weak spot should be as hard as she possibly could. Searing pain shot through her ankle as she felt it break on contact with the beast’s armour. She collapsed to the floor, closely followed by the Forukk holding its crotch.

Before anything else could happen, Zendek was at the centre of the scene. In one swift motion he smashed his sword’s pommel into Blake’s face, spun around then brought his still sheathed sword down upon the back of his head. Blake’s unconscious form hit the ground next to Sarah.

Zandek slowly and carefully lifted Sarah from the ground and carried her in his arms. He spoke to the Forukks, “Throw him into the pit.” If the Forukks could physically smile that is what would have been on their warped faces.

“Dill, what happened to you?” asked Sarah in a weak voice. “We all thought you were dead.”

“That name has not been used in almost two decades. Times have changed since back then.”

“You never were good at answering my questions.”

Without another word he carried her off into the fortress.

The sun shone brightly in the sky and a gentle wind played across the landscape. The last of the winter leaves waltzed through the grass while still damp clothes swayed upon hundreds of washing lines. Vivid flowers were blooming everywhere and young children played in the fields. Spring was reaching full bloom.

The older children were still stuck in school. The pupils in their last year had their final graduation tests to complete then it would be left to them to find their own ways in the world. The tests consisted on knowledge, combat and general sense.

“This is too easy,” moaned a tall, black haired boy with a handsome face and a lean, muscular body as he released an arrow from his bow with a satisfying twang. The arrow hit the exact centre of the target.

“You shouldn’t be moaning that it’s easy. This is a test, easy is good,” smiled a slightly shorter boy with dark brown hair and roguish good looks. He too shot an arrow and hit just shy of the bull’s-eye on his own target.

“Yes, but you would say that, you’re lazy. I happen to enjoy a challenge,” replied the first boy “It looks like we’re not the only ones finding it easy anyway.” He motioned to several people who were also hitting bulls eye with every shot. “That Brian Delb is scary with a bow.”

A few people down the line from the two boys was Brian Delb. He had his target ten foot further away from him than everyone else and it was only half the size. As soon as he picked up an arrow his movement became a blur. He fired three arrows in the time it took others to fire one. Each one hit the bull's eye.

“He sure is,” agreed the second boy. “Those girls aren’t half bad either.”

The two girls further down the line were laughing together as though they were out of school, let alone in their final tests. They both fired off arrows without effort, all the time talking. Each arrow stuck around the smallest ring. Both had athletic bodies and long hair.

“Not at all. Stunning bodies,” answered the black haired boy with a mischievous smirk as he admired them in the sports shorts and loose tops.

“I meant their archery skills.”

“I know.”

A shout broke their daydreaming. “Hey! Dillon, Blake, stop perving on the girls and get shooting.”

“Yes Sir!” answered both boys in unison. They both fired their final arrow and watched as they hit home. After the teacher had walked off to inspect the other students the boys continued their previous conversation.

“Just give me another week and I’ll have at least one of them going out with me,” said Dill.

“You’d be lucky. You’ve been saying that for over a year now. Plus Laura is already going out with that Brian. Also, what do you mean by ‘at least one of them’?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied Dill. He was saved from further questioning by the teacher blowing the whistle, signalling the end of the test.

“You’ve all got an hour to do what you want. After the time is over, return to the school hall to receive your final scores,” said the teacher. The crowd of students began to excitedly disperse from the school grounds.

“Blake, I’m gonna go get some food. I’ll meet you at the park and we’ll just relax and eat away our final hour of school life,” said Dill.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you there,” replied Blake as they set out in different directions.

After a short walk, Blake arrived at the park. It was deserted despite the good weather, most likely because most families were in the city hall preparing for the end of school celebration. He walked to the top of a nearby hill and saw that the park was not empty. Sarah Sted and Laura Fletcher both sat laughing on the swings. Blake decided to wait for Dill at the top of the hill so he sat down and relaxed while watching the two girls swing gently.

The swinging suddenly stopped and Blake’s attention was drawn to a group of men who entered the park and headed towards the girls. Blake could not hear what was happening but by the looks of it, it was nothing good.

They seemed to be having a heated conversation which led to the man closest to the girls grabbing Sarah’s shoulders. He quickly let go after she punched him in the nose. Laura followed up by kneeing him in the groin. The man staggered backwards but the other four closed in around the girls.

Sensing the men’s intentions, Blake stood up and ran down the hill with all his speed, consequently falling and cartwheeling down to the bottom. Without a moment’s pause he launched himself off of the floor and regained his full speed towards the swings.

By the time he had reached the scene the girls were already in trouble. Despite having hurt a second man they were now being held from behind by two of the remaining men. The two injured men had recovered and had joined the last man who stood in front of the girls, all five of the men now smiling maliciously at their captives.

Without stopping, Blake charged straight at the men, still at full speed. He leapt into the air and flying drop kicked the closest of the men. The two other thugs not holding the girls pulled out daggers and advanced towards Blake. They both lunged at him from either side. Blake dodged one but the other caught him in his arm. Suppressing a cry of pain, Blake spun around and punched the one who had hit him in the stomach, winding him.

The girls used this distraction to their advantage and both elbowed their captors and stomped on their feet. They quickly made their escape as these two men also drew their daggers. The thugs stood thinking whether to help fight Blake or get the girls. Sarah made the decision for them when she grabbed a branch and smacked one in the face with it.

“Screw this!” roared the thug nearest to the girls. Restraint left him as he ran towards Sarah with his dagger raised. She had no time to react.

Sarah screamed as blood sprayed from the wound and dripped down the dagger. The thug’s smile disappeared when he opened his eyes though. Stood in front of Sarah was Blake. Blood covered all his face and had begun to soak into his cloths. A large cut marked from his left eye down diagonally to the right side of his chin. His eyes held a look that could kill and his mouth had the expression of a snarl. He then passed out.

A large rock descended from above and hit the thug on the head. As he fell he revealed Dill stood behind him holding the rock with both hands. He threw the rock to the ground then kicked the thug. The other men turned and fled, clutching at their injuries as they ran.

“It’s not like you to be taken down by such small fry like them. Was the sight of two lovely ladies too distracting for you?” he said to Blake with a laugh. In a more serious tone he asked “Are you all alright?”

“We’re all a bit shaken but only Blake got hurt,” answered Laura.

Sarah was knelt down at Blake’s side. She ripped the sleeve from her shirt and cleaned his wound. She could not bandage it though as the injury covered his full face. “We have got to get you to the healer,” she said.

“I’m fine,” murmured Blake faintly. “The only place we need to be is back at school and we have a bit of time until then but not enough to go to the healers,” he said as he slowly sat up.

“Thank you for saving us. I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if you weren’t there to help,” said Sarah faintly.

“It was nothing. No worri…” Blake’s words were cut of as Sarah planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“Hey! I saved you too. Don’t I get a kiss,” pouted Dill.

“Thank you for saving us Dill,” said Laura.

“And the kiss?

“No.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Tough.”

Sarah parted their lips and stood up then helped Blake to his feet. He exhaled deeply then said, “I feel much better now.”

After spending half an hour eating the food Dill had brought as a picnic, the four of them headed back to school to receive their scores. Blake received several concerned stares and questions but he brushed them off with a carefree smile despite the blood. The hall was packed with nervous students and teachers. They were made to form a line in alphabetical order then wait to be given a folder with all their scores in it.

After receiving the folders Blake, Dill, Sarah, Laura and Brian slipped outside to read their results peacefully. With great apprehension the folders were slowly opened and the sheet within slid out.

Blake read all that was on the sheet.

BLAKE HUNTER-17

Mathematics – 6

Technology – 8

Languages – 3

Sense – 7

General knowledge – 7

Melee – 9

Range – 8

Leadership – 8

Average score – 7

Blake is a very skilled student who will do well in the world outside of school. He should stay in Pastrino or Onlasar though as his ability to speak other languages is poor. He also has a short concentration span. Other than those faults he is a model pupil.

P. Smith.

Blake smiled at his scores. “Shouldn’t be hard getting a good job with these scores. Shame about my language score though,” he said to himself. He looked over at Dill’s sheet. It looked very similar to his.

DILLON ZENDEK-17

Mathematics – 7

Technology – 7

Languages – 6

Sense – 8

General knowledge – 8

Melee – 9

Range – 9

Leadership – 10

Average score – 8

Dillon has it in him to do whatever he wants if he puts his mind into it. Aim high and you will go far.

P. Smith.

“See. I said that I could do whatever I wanted. How does ‘Conqueror of the Universe’ sound?” he asked with satisfaction.

“Far-fetched,” was Blake’s reply.

“Shut up! I stand a better chance than you. If you try and take a place over you’d have no idea what they are saying,” Dill joked. “The only person worse at languages than you is that Xion fellow.”

“True, but world domination takes a lot of effort. You know I couldn’t be bothered with all the hassle.

The weeks passed by with new meaning. Dill and Blake joined the city guard and with a bit of effort had the potential to gain high ranks. Brian went into training to become the next archery instructor and Laura worked as a fletcher in the family business when she wasn’t practicing with knives in the hopes of travelling with the circus. Sarah had signed up to the delivery service which meant that after her training she could visit new places out in the open world. The job had adventure, danger and good pay.

Work had just ended and Blake was heading to Dill’s house to check on him as he had not turned up for that day’s shift. When he arrived he knocked but there was no answer. He shouted but still received no reply. He tried the door and it opened with a slight creak. Entering the house he could spot nothing out of place. Another shout confirmed that no one was there.

Blake searched all of the rooms but still found nothing. He was becoming worried now. Just as he was about to leave, Blake noticed something amiss. The door to his right was slightly open. This was unusual as for as long as Dill had been alive that door had always been locked. Nobody had seen inside of it in over two decades and now it was open.

Cautiously Blake fully opened the door and walked down the dusty steps that met him. There was no light at all. He advanced down slowly, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword at all times.

When Blake reached the bottom he almost tumbled over as he was expecting more steps. His arms reached forwards looking for something to support him with. His hands hit wood and prevented his fall. He guessed it was another door. After groping around in the darkness he found what he was looking for. Cold metal protruded from the wood. He pushed the handle down and the door eased silently open.

The faint light of a candle lit the room beyond the door. It was a large stone room with book shelves and cabinets lining the walls. In the centre was a grand obsidian desk that seemed to sparkle in the candle light. Sat at the desk with his back facing Blake was Dillon. He appeared to be deeply involved with whatever it was that he was reading.

Blake was stunned by the aura the room was giving off. He just stood there immobile for several minutes. Finally he managed to snap out of it and take a defiant step forwards. The sound of his foot hitting the floor harder than he intended awoke Dill from his dreamlike state and made him aware of the intruder.

“Oh, Blake. It’s just you,” said Dill as he snapped his head in the direction of the door. “Come on in. You won’t believe some of the stuff I’ve found out in here.”

Blake entered the room and stood at Dill’s side as his eyes skimmed over the scattered documents on the desk. They ranged from notes, letters, information sheets and more important looking papers.

“I returned home yesterday and an envelop had been delivered to me. Inside was a letter and a key. All the letter said was: ‘use it well’. I tried the locked door against all hope but it clicked open. I’ve been down here reading since then.”

Blake picked up an important looking document and started to read. A look of shock grew on his face as he read further through the paper. As he finished he slowly put the paper down and looked hard at Dill.

“Is all this stuff true?” Blake asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” sighed Dill.

“If it’s true, you are the Lord of the Fallen City. Not like it does you any good as it was destroyed then consumed by the darkness.”

“It was a traitor city. My ancestors almost destroyed Pastrino and all the people in it. If it’s true then that blood flows through my veins,” Dill replied in a sad tone.

Blake placed his hand on Dill’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “What your ancestors did in the past has no bearings on who you are now. You’re still Dillon Zendek like last week and every other week in your life. Finding this stuff out doesn’t automatically change you.”

Dill stayed silent. Minutes passed by without a sound other than Blake moving papers. The quiet was broken by Dill.

“What have I got here?”

“What do you mean?” asked Blake, confused at the question.

“What reasons do I have to stay here, in this city? I have no family, or girlfriend. I could rise to be captain of the city guard but what good would that do me? I am wasted here.”

Blake was genuinely worried now. His friend’s sadness was hard to listen to. “You have me and the others. We’ll always be there for you. We’re your friends, nothing can change that fact.”

“Really? So in twenty years when I’m in a higher position than the rest of you and you’ve all gone and got married and had kids we’ll all still hang out together like we use to.”

“It can never be like it use to be but we can all still stay friends. We can still hang out; we just have other things to do with our time.” Blake reasoned.

“Things more important than our friendship in other words. Can’t you see, there will be nothing for me if I stay here? I could never be Lord of this city, only the upper city snobs even get the chance. I could be the lord of Lanstiro, rebuild and repopulate it. Then I could recreate the three cities era of Farava’s history. My name would be passed down the ages and I could achieve something worthy. Plus I could bring back honour to my family’s name.”

“That is a great ambition but you know that the city was engulfed by the darkness. No man who ever entered it came back alive.”

“I am one of the most skilled people in this whole city, it is in my blood to rule it and I also have an invitation to go from my father,” said Dill as he passed Blake a letter. “He said that he had begun to rebuild the city but his life was over and that it is only right that his son takes over his life work.”

“I thought your father was dead?” frowned Blake.

“So did I,” answered Dill quietly.

“Come on. Let’s head up and get you some food, you must be starving.” Blake led Dill up into the kitchen where they got themselves some food. Very little conversation passed between them. Outside the sun had already set and a ghostly moon illuminated the sky.

“It’s getting late. I’d better be heading home. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid or reckless and we can talk more tomorrow,” said Blake.

“Yes, I promise. I’m too tired to do anything more today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Blake left without another word. When he arrived home he poured himself a mug of tea then headed straight to bed. There he lay but sleep would not take him. Hours passed by and the moon arced across the sky gently. Blake’s mind was racing through what his friend had been saying and something just did not fit but he could put his finger on what.

Giving up on sleep Blake climbed out of bed and paced around his room. Just as he was about to give up he realised what did not fit. Dill was never tired. He could spend days without sleep and still seem energised even if he had spent the whole time training. He was Blake’s opposite in that respect. Now he said he was too tired to do anything and all he had been doing was sat reading and had only missed one night’s sleep. This was not his usual behaviour at all.

Looking out his window Blake guessed it would be about five o’clock. He quickly dressed, grabbed a slice of bread then left the house and directed himself back towards Dillon’s home.

This time the front door was locked. Luckily he knew where the spare key was kept. He felt under the windowsill but found nothing, the key was gone. He checked the back door but that too was locked. There was only one option left short of breaking the door down and that was to climb through Dill’s bedroom window which was always open, even in winter.

It was an easy climb but as Blake slid through the window his fears were confirmed. Dill was not in his room. He quickly checked the other rooms and upon finding nothing headed to the newly discovered basement. It too was deserted.

Slumping into the chair Blake sighed in frustration. He could tell Dill had been down here since Blake had left as the papers were more organised than he had left them. Recognising his friends writing he picked up the top piece of paper. It simply read: I’m sorry.

“Damn it!” shouted Blake as he ran from the house, skidded around a corner and headed for the city’s west gate.

Within minutes he had reached the large wooden gates out of the city. The doors were open and the two guards lay unconscious on the ground. Although Blake’s breath was ragged he continued to sprint out of the city and towards the forbidden lands.

A dark figure loomed on the horizon. After another minute Blake had caught up with him. Like he had expected, it was Dill.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted Blake between heavy breaths.

“Following my destiny,” he answered in a levelled tone. “Setting out on the path left for me by those that came before me.”

“You promised that you wouldn’t do anything rash.”

“I’m sorry but I’d already made my decision by then.”

“You can’t just leave like this,” shouted Blake, grabbing his friend’s arm.

Dill removed his sword from its scabbard and pointed it at his friend. “One more match, for old times sake.”

With a grim face Blake nodded and removed his own sword. “But if I win you stay.”

“Deal,” said Dill as he darted forwards and hacked at Blake’s hastened defence.

Blake knew he was outmatched. It was close but he always lost. Not this time though, he thought grimly as he ducked a blow at his head.

Both men were skilled with a blade. Any watchers would have been mesmerized by the show of talent. As the fight lengthened the skill gave way to a more basic combat style. Less graceful but more passionate and desperate. Blake had received many small cuts and had given out a fair few himself. Now his limbs felt like lead and sweat dripped freely from his skin. Dill looked in the same condition too. If this was going to be the last spar that they ever had then they were both determined to make it a good one.

The end of the battle was near; they could feel it in the air. Both jumped backwards then put all their speed and strength into one final slash. They charged at each other then all sound halted.

Both stood ten foot away from the other, backs turned. Blood soaked each man’s clothes and stained the floor at their feet.

“Good match,” said Dill as he dropped his sword.

“Yes,” agreed Blake before collapsing.

Dill smiled softly down at Blake but made no move to help him.

“Goodbye my friend. I am truly sorry that our paths separate from here.” Without a backwards glance he retrieved his sword then walked off into the west, never to be seen in Pastrino again.