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.