Aug 4, 2017

Chapter Seven - An Unwelcome Guest

The story so far - Sybil is a mother, a retired warrior, and her past has come knocking on her door. The past, a cabal of ancient gods known as The Thirteen, wants her son for their nefarious schemes. But they will have to go through her to get to him. Now, trapped in a time stasis field, armed with a chatterbox mystical sword, Sybil is the only thing standing between The Thirteen and her son. But forces are moving in the background and things are getting a little complicated as more powers join in.

This is the story so far, and now, Chapter Seven.

There are guests that you can welcome in your home any day and then there are guests that make you want to burn down your own house and move to another country. And then there is the third kind of guests, that force themselves upon you.

They are simply the worst.

Sybil was facing the consequences of encountering one such uninvited guest. The man on the horse simply slammed into the flow of the fight, interrupting and distracting both Sybil and the demon she was trying to kill.

The demon with two bleeding stumps of his arms, stared at the large animal that was now heading towards him. The man on the horse was screaming himself hoarse with a war cry that sounded more like a gargle amplified through arcane magics and the sword he held in his hand was curved and much simpler looking than anything that was involved in the fight so far. It was going to get messy and quick.

Sybil sighed. The poor fuck was going to get himself killed.

As the man approached the towering demon, two things happened. His horse finally gave up under the exhaustion of running through the storm and finally getting through the time field. The animal’s front legs buckled. It fell face first into the ground. Second things that happened was that the fall sent the man flying over the horse’s head and through the air all the while he screamed his stupid gargling war cry.

The demon stood there looking at the whole spectacle with a dumb look on his face. Everything happened too quickly. It raised its swords in the flying man’s path to simply cut him in many different pieces on the account of his own momentum. At the final moment, a hair’s breadth from the two sharp blades, the man spun in the air and executed a perfect flip landing with two feet on the demon’s sword blade.

Shit, Sybil thought as she looked at the drama unfolding in front of her. The man jumped up from the demon’s sword blade, closing the gap between his sword and the demon’s neck. A single swipe from his curved sword and the demon’s head vanished in a mist of blood and flesh. The man flipped once and rolled onto his shoulder to break his fall. He rolled up and landed on one knee and other foot, sword still held by his side as the demon’s head dropped down, followed by his body.

In Sybil’s hand The Wraith snorted. That was impressive. I’d love to know this kid’s teacher or teachers. The man got up and started walking towards Sybil.

“I hope I was not too late,” he said as he sheathed his sword. “The time field around this area is too strong otherwise I would have reached here sooner.”

“How did you break in?” Sybil asked, a bit suspicious. In her experience, time fields were nearly impossible to break through. The only way things returned to normal is if the source of the time field was destroyed. And in her case, that would be The Thirteen hanging above her like demonic angels.

“I cut through with my sword,” the man said. Sybil looked at him again. There was something familiar about the man. His face, his eyes, the cut of his jaw and the way he carried himself struck some ancient memory in her mind.

“Do I know you?” She asked. “I feel like I know you.”

A smile lit up the man’s face. “Of course you know me. I am your son.”

YIKES! What? How? Why?

Ok, I'll tell you all this tomorrow.

Jun 20, 2017

Chapter Six - Four to One

Once, in a time long gone and lost, The Wraith had faced a minor god. Wielded by an insane necromancer who'd used the lives of his followers to bolster up his strength, just to fight the god. In a battlefield littered with bodies like flakes of snow, the necromancer had challenged the god and the god's fury rained down upon the battlefield like a torrent of starlight on a dark night.

For a few moments no one could tell the difference between night or day and if any eyes in the field had been alive, they'd have gone blind in horror. Noise like the beating of death's wings, thunder like the screeching of dying banshees, and rain, oh, the rain.

And as the god's sword arm came down from the sky like a meteor gunning to destroy civilizations, The Wraith met it. The blade, infused with the souls of a hundred thousand dead, clove through the sword arm like the inevitability of certain death of everything in the universe. The necromancer rose from the battlefield on his own power and attacked the god with a rage that was unlike anything that The Wraith had experienced before. And he had been used by some pretty fucking angry individuals in the past.

When the god's head hit the ground, the necromancer also fell and used the wraith to carve out his own heart. As he ate his heart on the battlefield of a hundred thousand dead, he had tears in the eyes and he discarded the sword like it was some stick he had picked up on an evening walk.

In all, it was a glorious evening.

But it paled compared to the ruckus Sybil was causing right now.

She met the demon's swords with a ferocious speed and as the blades clashed, the sound of steel on steel filled the night air like the buzzing of a swarm of bees. The demon gave no quarter and the thing was relentless in its strikes, swipes, and shoves.

But Sybil was propelled by an anger and rage that someone threatened her family. She had everything to lose in this fight and the victory would only put her one step closer to whatever fuckery the thirteen cooked up for her next.

The blades in the demon's hands came at her like whirlwind of steel and she ducked, spun, jumped and met the blade with The Wraith. The blade in her hand, speaking softly in her mind and guiding her hands and movements for the maximum damage she could inflict.

Her attack pushed back the demon and it staggered for a moment. That was all that Sybil needed and she moved in within the range of blade and with a fell swipe chopped away the right arms of the demon. The demon let loose an almighty scream and the blades of the left arms came thirsting for her blood.

But Sybil had already moved from the path of the blades.

Then, with the precision of a surgeon, she set about dismantling the limbs from the demon. With four blades facing her, she might have had some difficulty, but as she lunged and struck her adversary, she knew the fight was falling in her favor.

That is, till the man on the horse decided to interrupt the battle.

I was gone almost a month from this. Sheesh, you guys, wake me up next time I am missing.

May 21, 2017

Chapter Five -- Try, she said.

"I was once wielded by a priest of the nameless order. He was a crazy motherfucker. Said he killed for religion but in fact, he only killed because he liked killing. Had a hardon for murder, that guy."

"Shut up."

"Then, there was this general. I don't remember how I landed up in his hands, but he used me to stage a coup and slit the throats of the whole royal family with my sharp blade. Pretty ironic that years later, he also died at my edge."

"Shut up."

"Did I tell you about the time I killed a god?"

"We're here. Stay sharp."

The sword sniggered at this.

"But you have to hear about this one time at a battlefield..."

Sybil walked into the clearing with the sword jibbering in her head. She needed to clear her head of thoughts if she was to handle what was coming for her. But the sword's chatter was non-stop. She thought about her son. Her husband. The things the thirteen would do to them if they got through her and her focus slowly returned to the task at hand.

They would send someone to negotiate first. Always sound and fury, them. Never the ones to confront. But she was counting on it.

Of the thirteen lights, one light broke away as Sybil walked towards them. It slowly drifted on silent air currents and floated to where she was standing. She gripped the sword a little tighter and rotated her shoulder to be ready.

The light materialized in a humanoid form as it came near her. It was a man. Dressed in white flowing robes. An angelic look on his face. His hair glowed with a golden glow and his face defied any attempts to decipher his age. 

He was smiling.

Sybil wanted to cut his head off.

"Sybil," the man thing spoke. "It's been a long time."

"Say your piece. I have no patience for pleasantries."

"Ah, well. Never the one for riff-raff. I'll come to the point then. Give us the boy and we'll lift the hold from your house and your life."

"Can't do that."

"Then we'll take the boy."


A sliver of anger flashed across the man's face. Quick as it appeared, it was gone and the shark-toothed smile was back.

"You will regret this, Sybil."

"Not in a million years."

"As you wish. It's your family's funeral."

"I have a proposition for you, too."

The man smiled and raised his eyebrow.

"Fuck off from here with your cronies and I will not kill you all."

The man laughed. "Oh, Sybil. We're coming to take the boy, whether you like it or not. It's just you here. Who's going to back you up?"

"All hell will."

The man said nothing. He kept smiling and floated back to his circle of thirteen.

"Nice talk," The Wraith spoke in her head.

'I was taking their measure. They're afraid. If they'd the ability to take Jorah, they'd have done so already."

"They will come anyway and we'll have to handle them. My plan will hold."

"I sure hope it does. We don't have anything else to bank upon anyway."

"It'll be enough for these thirteen. That much I am sure of."

Above them, the lights started their slow dance, strobing and flashing in colors that made Sybil's eyes hurt.

"Don't look!" the sword warned her.

Lights broke away from the circle and clumped together in small pools like bacteria gathering around an idea or a thought. Through shut eyes, Sybil felt the dance of lights on her eyelids. The storm was a distant sound somewhere, but for a moment she thought she her a horse.

With a loud boom of thunder, the light show stopped. Sybil opened her eyes and what stood in front of her defined the word terror to the T. A behemoth of a figure, easily standing to the height of eight feet, arms holding mean looking blades of different shapes and sizes. The striking feature of the figure was two additional arms sprouting from its waist. Two more sharp blades were held by the hands of its extra arms. Its skin was a dirty green color, almost black and a single red eye shone in the middle of its head. It stood there. Observing Sybil as she took the thing's measure, too.

"Can I throw you at this thing's eye?" She asked the sword.

"And lose the opportunity to enjoy my stellar company? Bah!"

"Any idea on how to go about it."

"Engage and I'll think of something."

"Four blades against one."

"I've fought worse odds before. Did I tell you that story?"

"Ah, fuck it." Sybil said as she took a running start at the figure.

I need to write more!

May 5, 2017

Chapter Four -- Cold Steel

"Hello, Darling. Shall We Dance?"

The Wraith's voice sent frigid fingers of ice crawling down her spine. She had to grit her teeth to stop herself from screaming incoherently.

"Help me out. Just this once. And I'll owe you one."

"You? Owe me one?" The sword's voice was a sharp fingernail on the blackboard of her mind. "Listen, now. I was once a warrior. The best there ever was. I killed men, women, children, animals, tribes, and even one or two civilizations. And then I fucked with a god. A living god. Which is how I got here. I've seen suns set in places you can't even imagine and I've thrown away riches the kind you can't even dream to accumulate in seven lifetimes. I've won. I've lost. I've lived. Do you really think, I'd help you just because, you'd owe - me - one?"

"Please," Sybil begged. The fear and desperation almost drove her to the brink of her patience. Outside the house, the storm raged on while the 13 figures hung in the sky like satellites waiting to fall to earth.

"Ah, now how can I say no to a woman like you saying please to me?" The Wraith's voice calmed down from its shrill crescendo. "Fine. I'll help you. Update me on the situation here."

"They've come for my boy. There is a timestorm happening outside and the house is stuck in stasis. The clocks don't move. My son and my husband are asleep. I don't even know if they'll wake up again. I need to go out and face them. Parley with them, if I must. And if worst happens, I'll have to kill them all or die trying."

"A noble plan,  to die trying," the sword snorted. "Now shut the fuck up and listen to me. I have a plan and it just might work."


Outside the sphere of the storm, a man on a horse raced towards the storm as fast as his horse could carry him. The strong winds buffeted him and threatened to throw him off his mount, but the man dug in with his heels and the animal raced with foam hanging from its lips. He knew the horse was not going to make it, but he only needed to get as close to the storm's edge as he could.

The real struggle was after he reached there. He'd have to find a way to get inside the stasis.

A ragged tree branch flew towards him in the storm and he ducked to save his head from getting shorn off his neck. The branch crashed behind him somewhere with a loud bang. He didn't turn to look. Arcs of lightning lit up his path with random strikes to the ground. He could sense the horse's fear and tiredness, but there was no other way. He dug his heels in the horse's flanks once more to make the animal run faster. He had to be there in time. He prayed to any gods that would listen, to let him be there in time.


"That's a dangerous plan," Sybil told The Wraith.

"Safe plans are not worth the effort. It's all or nothing, Sy."

She took one look towards her bedroom where her son and husband slept like dead bodies. She closed her eyes and shook her head once.

"All or nothing," she whispered to herself.

With the sword in one hand, Sybil opened the door and walked out to face the 13.

Next: Showdown!

I am so sorry I didn't update this sooner. I've been busy, oh so busy. But I wanted to write this. 

Apr 3, 2017

Chapter Three -- Spirit Dance

The clock was stuck at 2:05. 

The night air was still around the house but at a short distance, the storm raged on. Lightning struck the ground, raising tufts of grass, filling up the air with the smell of ozone. Wind pulled up small trees and shrubs from the earth, taking it all up into the powerful swirl of the storm. 

Inside the house, Sybil breathed calmly. Her chest rose and fell, The Wraith in her lap hummed with an anticipating energy. She knew the sword would start talking soon. It had been dormant for too long. It would have a lot to say. About the things she should do. 

She swallowed spit in her dried up throat, thinking about the bullshit that was about to pour forth once the sword started to talk. Hopefully, the storm would be over before that. She looked outside. 

The drapes on her window didn't blow in the wind anymore. Everything around her house was still, but she could still hear the havoc raining down in the distance. 

Dirty tricks, she sighed. No one was going to knock on her door. They wanted to bring her out. She walked up to the door and raised the drapes on the window next to the door. In the darkness, glowing orbs were descending from the sky. 

The storm sounded like a cabal of banshee in the distance, but it was virtually calm as the orbs took humanoid forms. She counted thirteen heads. 13 pairs of glowing eyes, all focused on her small house. All challenging her to come outside of her sanctuary to face them. She had to go, otherwise, they'd wait. And morning would never come for her and her family.

She took a deep breath and unsheathed The Wraith. The blade sniffed at the darkness and the evil in the air and came alive. Its sound in her ears was loud as it started to speak gibberish. Spewing the years of collected garbage in a steady stream of bullshit. She focused and tried to drown out the noise, but it kept rising like a tsunami of chaos. 

Sybil fell to her knees. Her nose bled and she slammed her head in the floor trying to silence the noise. The shock wrecked through her body like a lightning strike. Her teeth clamped on her lip and blood mingled with spit dripped on the floor. 

"Not today," she groaned and slammed the sword point first in the floorboards. Leaning on the sword, she got up. The room swam around her but at least the noise was abating. And through the converging silence, she heard the old familiar voice like honey on fresh wounds. 

"Hello, darling. Shall we dance?"

Can you feel it? I can feel it.