"The Legend of Blade: The Birth - Chapter Four" by Josh ´Boo Boo´ Walls

       When he came to again, Blade's stomach was tightened against whatever force it was that had to be held back.  He adjusted to it quickly as he stood up.  The room was now dim, but the little light that filled the room came from no where he could see.  Blade recalled what happened before he pressed onward.

       -I came down the steps behind me,- he thought as he turned towards the middle of the room, -and moved towards that pedestal.  I guess I followed instructions, because I don't see the orb anywhere.  I should be able to take the claw now.-

       Blade walked to the pedestal and grabbed the golden claw that was his prize.  It seemed to be too light for its appearance.  Either way, Blade placed it in his pouch, right against his lower back.  Convenient, the placement of his pouch.  On his lower back, he had maximum mobility, even if it was full, and he could have quick, immediate access.  No one could get into it without his noticing either.  On the stand, right where the claw was laid, was another engraving:


      -That's crazy.  How can you use your body to light a path? or knock something out of the way?-

       He could figure that out later, right now he wanted to get to Streak and back to Goherda as quickly as possible.  As strange as it seemed, Blade was yearning to go back, to kill Doane and retrieve Lelia.  He sprinted up the steps, surprised at what little effort and time it consumed.  He rushed to the bottom of Holy Hill and didn't bother to look back.

---

       Rafael stood at the foot of a throne, but didn't bother to lift his head to look at his speaker; he wasn't worthy.  The voice sounded like thunder as it rained down upon him.

       "Well done, Rafael.  You now know his level of self-discipline first hand.  Not many can keep total control over themselves under imminent death.  Follow him, he will need your help more once he passes to hell itself," thundered a monstrous voice.

       "Yes, Master, Yahweh," said Rafael as he rose and turned without gazing at his commander.  After he left the throne room, he disappeared into humanity once more.

---

       Doane was beginning to get really frustrated and about to breakdown walls.  He decided to check the next door he came to before forcing his way through.  Ironically, his frustration led him to where he needed to go.  The only door he hadn't checked, mainly because it led to the room behind a wall he had knocked down to reveal a ladder that sent him on a long journey through the basement to no avail, had been the correct one.  When he didn't see anything other than the place in the wall where the ladder would be, Doane slammed his fist into the wall, uncovering his prize.

       How strange, I didn't know this place existed and I have lived here for about fifteen years and the obvious room was wrong.  Had to be the one I thought would be empty.  It really was, other than the wall compartment.

       Lord Doane, as he preferred to be called, thought it never happened, retrieved his goal for his ignorance.  It was relatively light for the size and make.  Shaped like a giant spearhead, it was triangular except for the slitting hole at its base that was wrapped in leather of some sort.  He gripped it how he felt was right, placing the leather handle, below the slit, in his palm with a fist wrapping around it.  The guerne gave him about eight inches of reach beyond his hand, but it was much shorter than his sword.  Doane loved it already.  He swung it to and fro on his way back to Master.

       When he reached the old fool, Master began to chant something.  He seemed to have lost his mind for the language he spoke was incapable of being interpreted.  Laughing, Doane that he had lost his sanity and began to speak gibberish, but the floor made from the wall to the castle had shown otherwise.   A sphere holding an overgrown chameleon began to emerge and take form, levitating barely above the brick on which they stood.  Inside of it, the chant took life.  The lizard was easily the size of a grown man and it stood on its hind legs as if it were meant too.  It's body seemed humanoid in appearance and shape.  On either hand were razor sharp claws taht were at least a foot long.  The rubberish arms were too long for its amphibious body.  Suddenly, its head jerked to face Doane.  Gils opened, revealing the slits that held bloodshot eyes, full of hatred.  The arms unfolded from its chest, and the hands expanded showing its awesome appearance in full.

       Master finished his chant as the bubblish space disintegrated, loosing the creature.  "Your test, Doane."

       "What!  I wasn't to be tested; Lucifer said I was the one!  How do you expect me to demolish this lizard without my sword and no experience with this guerne of yours?" rang out Doane's fear.  The lizalan seemed happy to have an opponent that drenched itself in fear.

       "Fine," Master rebuked, "think of it as your training with the guerne then.  Don't show fear, mind you.  Deconka feed on fear.  Yes, she feeds on fear.  Begin!"

       Deconka took her oder completely as she hurled herself towards Doane.  Doane's fear for the creature before him had become as a tranquilizer, paralyzing him until he had been pinned against the archer's perch.  A claw drew back to end the fight before it began, and Doane rolled right, going through the grasp of the beast.  His act was not a moment too soon as the bricks flew far below to the ground.  Doane had left for the defensive when the Lizalan warrior showed him her coordination with a swift spin left and a followed through backhand to the temple.  Deconka cackled as she hit him in the face with a balled fist once more.  Chuckling along, Master enjoyed the small show.

       Doane knew what to do, but he couldn't find the proper opportunity.  He slowly backed away as he dodged and tried to block the swiping claws.  Then he saw it.  With a fast and steady movement, Doane had made the risky maneuver.  When Deconka swung her right hand towards his neck, Doane dove inward and low, shoving her wrists above their heads.  He uppercutted her throat, pressing the guerne through the skull and out the other side as fluidly as possible.  He sighed inwardly as he felt the defeat.  She fell to the ground as he pulled it back out.  Her body let out one spasm, and then lie still.

       "There," Doane snapped, "how was that, Master?"  He turned his back to the fallen foe to see Master's face.  An evil, seductive grin fell upon the contours of Master's face, making Doane freeze in his position.

       "It's not over, yet," Master laughed.  "Don't underestimate the Lizalan race.  Deconka is the prized warrior.  I must admit, you did harm her, but it was far from fatal, mind you."

       Doane flipped backwards as high as he could, dodging the sneak attack that Deconka tried to pull.  When he landed, Doane knew that his face had lost all of its colour.  All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears as loudly as the tribal drums as he tried to think of how he was to kill the demon before him.