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

       Lord Doane had just left the woman when he remember that he was to go train.  What inconvenience, he wanted to make sure his cstle was set for Blade's arrival.  He shouldn't be too long gone.  Doane was sure he'd be back soon  And that's just what he told Lelia after she smacked him for getting physical. It's a shame, though, she didn't even know that it would be her own unbecoming.  Such pleasure filled him.

       Master was waiting, looking out at the desert, staring into nothingness, or so it seemed.  He appeared to be in too deep of a thought to be aware of his surroundings, but as Doane walked closer, Master turned to face him.

       "You're late," he said, "and your face is red.  Did the lady give you trouble?"  The latter was like another slap to the face, mocking him.

       "Watch it.  She's just a little confused at the moment.  That's all.  So, can we get started, I want to get everything ready for my company," Doane said, ignoreing Master's sarcasm.

       Master's face seemed to light up as if he nkew something no one else did.  Doane became uneasy; it wasn't normal for him to look like that.  The look left Master as he began to speak.

       "Let's go then.  If you're ready, hand me your sword."

       "What?" came Doane's return.

       "You heard me, Doane, give me your sword," Master repeated.

       Doane was hesitant.  He couldn't believe that Master wanted his sword.  He was the dangerous swordsman, but not if he didn't have it.  He finally nodded and started to pull it from its sheath, but stopped, put it back in, and took the sheath off and all.  Doane threw it at Master's feet.  He could still win a hand-to-hand fight, it would be simple with how old Master was.

       Master lifted the sword off of the ground, and he pulled it from its sheath.  It was a beautifully crafted silver blade, long and light.  The sheath, although matching Doane's clothing and style, was relatively horrendous.  It was too long for the sword, and too wide.  Master hefted the sheath behind him where it landed in the corner of the walkway.

---

       Master smiled at Doane's anger.  It was apparent.  If he was trying to hide it, his face betrayed him.  What fun Master could have with this, what enjoyment.  He tried to picture how Doane would look after what came next.  Could he withstand his anger, or would he charge blindly in that anger?  Either way it would be amusing.  Master, tired with thinking about it, he wanted to know it.  So he decided quickly and threw the sword over the wall, letting it land in front of the gate and stick in the ground.

       -Wonderful.  He's getting to mad to contain himself.  Watching Doane is more fun than I thought.  His eyes, I've never seen such wide eyes.  But I have now that I threw his sword over the wall.  Ha!  Look at his ignorance.  This will be fun. - Master thought at Doane.

       "What was that for!"  Doane yelled, allowing his anger to spill out.  "You idiot!  That was MINE and I don't have the time to go get it!"

       "Calm down, Doane," soothed Master.  "You don't need it anymore, unless you changed your mind about accepting Lucifer's bestowment."

       "No!  I am the only one capable of containing the power of Gala.  I will be Lucifer's warrior.  Blade will be partnered with me," Doane snapped.  "No one else is worthy."

       "Fine," Master started, "prove it to us-"

       "How, exactly, am I going to prove it?" interrupted Doane.

       "First off, never interrupt your master.  Second, find Gala's weapon.  Last, learn to use it.  Questions?" Master asked, knowing Doane' thoughts before he started.

       "A few.  Where is this weapon I am supposed to be using?  What is it?  And why can't I use my sword?"  The latter was delivered very sharply.

       "Heh.  As I thought.  I'll answer your questions backwards, and vaguely.  Lucifer doesn't want you to use a sword because you will rely on its distance to win.  If you would be unarmed against Blade, you'd lose quickly.  The weapon is called the guerne.  Think of it as an oversized spearhead.  You can use it two ways: as a daggerlike weapon, or, once you know how, as a spear.  It's location, in your castle, under it actually.  That's your training, to find it.  There's a passageway about your chambers.  Have fun.  Your castle is set for Blade.  I took the liberty of checking it over for you.  He will be detained for hours, unless he manages to go through much faster than we expect," explained Master.

       Doane turned to start down the steps, muttering something under his breath along the way.  Obviously, Master had heard as he rebuked, "Watch your mouth.  Even if you find it, you will need my guidance with it.  Get going."

---

       -Blade has to come back for me.  He must.  Doane even said he would, - Lelia thought to herself.

       Lelia was alone in one of the rooms towards the back of the castle; she wasn't really sure as to where exactly, though.  For being a prisoner, she had it luxuriously.  In the corner was an oversized bed decorated for a very noble guest.  In the opposite corner, food was spread all out on a table dressed in white.  She was being treated like a queen, but all her mind could think of was Blade and the village.

       -There's not much there.  It doesn't matter.  Whatever happens, we'll start over.  Me and Blade.  Blade... be careful my love...- she pondered on Blade.

       She cried.  It was cold and lonely without any one to give comfort, but still yet, she found it better than the company of Doane's presence.

---

       Blade felt confused, and, somehow, stronger.  Fighting the griffin had taken little effort after he had let his training take control.  When the griffin fell faceless to the ground and let out a death spasm, the light dimmed greatly and the pressure against him had stopped.  Like a  curious child, Blade walked over towards the Orb of Light.  As he did, the light and pressure began to fade more and more.  Instead, it seemed to pull him closer.  The orb was compelling, and something inside told him, urged him to reach out for it.  He followed his instincts and grabbed it, not knowing why-

       -and there was a brilliant, blinding flash of white the moment his hands had touched the mass of the orb.  Blade turned his head, but the light was gone before he started to move.  He looked back to the orb, and he noticed the light wasn't gone, but rather the orb wasn't blinding towards him any longer.

       THUMP!

       Glancing over his shoulder, Blade saw that the force must have been back as well as he saw the noise to be the carcass hitting the rocks, being pressed tightly to it.  Not only had the light and pressure come back, but, evidently, they had become stronger than before, as well.  Strange how Blade wasn't effected.  He looked back at the sphere in his hands, only to realize that it wasn't in his hands.  His mind searched for an answer as grinding could be heard under the pedestal; that's when he accepted it as truth.  The orb was floating over his hands.  The pedestal was moving, revealing a set of stone steps that looked anceint.

       When the pedestal stopped moving, Blade held the orb in front of him using his left hand so he could use his right.  He was told that he was left-handed, but he had a fix for his right.  The steps seemed to descend for what seemed to be hours.  Gladly, Blade found the room that they led to as the only one and free of danger.  Disappointment arose as he saw another pedestal set into the center of the room, holding a golden claw, shaped much like the griffin's.  As he drew closer to claim his prize, he saw another etching.  This one appeared to be a verse from something, but not a puzzle, thankfully.


       Blade knew what it meant.  He had been told to open his soul before.  It meant no more than to believe and accept what was happening as the truth.  He did as it commanded, closing his eyes and opening his mind and soul and body.  All became clear as his body intertwined the Orb of light to his soul.  Needing rest, Blade allowed his body to collapse against the cold, stone floor.