By: Murasaki

Chapter 2

<body>They entered their home, the Sanctuary, met by Lady Denae and her pearly smile. As usual, she delicately greeted each of them with a ginger grace that only a real lady could.

"Hello, my men," she said sweetly. She then scowled her expression and looked directly at Marty. "Martin, go into the field and join the others, I must speak with Christopher for a moment." Her eyes very assertive, not taking his trifle head shake of a 'no' for an answer. "Please, and I will have Chris take you out on an adventure tomorrow." Chris' face fell sour and he grunted. Marty debated with a smile on his face, then decided it was best he that went along while he was ahead.

"Hmm, alright, Mama. But--," he then protests.

"No buts, Marty." She said sternly. "Go on." Marty looked rather shocked, but walked outside anyway, still a bit curious of what Denae was going say to Chris.

"Okay, okay, I'm going..." he said shortly as he popped up from his stool and walked out the door, quickly jolting left and stooping beside the door to eavesdrop. "Aren't I just so sneaky?" He thought, chuckling to himself as he reared his head a little inside the door, only to run his scaled face into Denae's Leg. "Ack!" he exclaimed, scrambling back onto his elbows, looking up at her. "Mother! I was, uh... I mean--"

"Save it, Marty," grumbled Denae. "Just get going before..." She let her words trail off, then sweet lady grinned quaintly and turned on her heel, walking softly back to Chris who held a slightly amused grin upon his face. Chris said nothing, in fear that he would be lashed by Lady Denae's tongue. Marty stood up, dusting off his thick legs and masculine, stalky body and flipped his long, green hair back behind his head, heading away from Sanctuary and into the field.

Chris, however, sat silently as Denae neared him. Her eyes in a constant shift, a sure sign that something was upon her mind.

"What's on your mind, sweet one?" He chimed, looking to her soft features in awe, studying to see if he could find even a hint of the problem. As he believed he had found such, she darted her still swaying eyes to look within his. "It is time, Christopher." She said in a soft, demanding manner.

"Marty must become a Coilsteemer and join the ranks with the others." Scratching his beard, looking in astonishment that Denae would vocalize so abruptly, sat pale-faced, lost in her words and his own thoughts. He parted his lips, speaking rather unsurely.

"I... Don't know about this, sweet--"

"I said 'tis time, Christopher Ford!" She shot him an angry look; eyes blazing as she figuratively put her foot down. "The boy is 18 years of age, his skills are far above any of the others!" Stunned, the Ford father soured his expression, looking down at his own feet.

"I'll test him tomorrow, Denae. I promise." Pleased, she slid herself into Chris' lap, hugging him softly as she whispered within his ear.

"Good. I'll be in bed, hon." She then left him speechless, wondering why she was going to bed when the sun was just falling behind the horizon. Oh! His quirked mouth drew into a smile as she lifted her petite body from him, and sauntered slowly up the stairs to their room, Chris close at her heels.

Marty found himself in the training field, his sword at his side, walking within the sea of reeds. This place was the swordsmen's center of solitude. Normally, this peaceful location was used for the gathering of thoughts, but the little Ford thought otherwise. The long, thick stalks were at eye level with the assailant. A mighty sword was suddenly drawn with a loud ringing and the blade grasped major air as it came down in a whirling explosion of speed and energy. The little warrior was found kneeling, his sword slicing a circle around him, his hands griped the green and gold handle of his battle sword. The emerald gem within the hilt shimmering lightly as the setting sun fell unto it with glittery precision.

"Damn! What else do I have to do?" He asked himself, very confused on why his father, Chris, hadn't made him honorary Coilsteemer. "I've done all that he's asked me to do, and more. Am I trying in vain?" Suddenly, from the corner of the reeds, a rustling came about. Marty cocked his head gradually at it, his sword still drawn, nearing the source of the disturbance. Suddenly cold, red eyes flashed from the darkness. Marty's eyes met with them, widening in terror as he heard the eyes seemingly gain a form and begin to speak. The word 'Fordling' was spoken in a low, demonic tone.

From within the shade, the being rose, enshrouded within a dark cloak.It's eyes hidden within the deep hood of his cloak, flickered ruby as they flared out with dark precision. "Fordling," it repeated. "Your father has something which belongs to my kindred... so I have come to take something that belongs to him. You, Marty Ford are MINE!" It growled, emulating a throat of an emasculate dragon while extending a glisten-scaled hand out to grasp a hold upon Marty's parka. Marty shouted in protest, backing away with haste.

"Who are you? My father has nothing of yours! Leave me alone!" His eyes blazing with fear as he backed into a corner of the forest. The druid being only snorted in mild amusement, stepping forward with it's arms at the sides.

"Oh, I will. Once I gain what belongs to me. The Gem of Darkon, Marty. He had given us the wrong one and escaped when last my family had encountered him. The greedy old man stole away, leaving behind a family that you have never known about. But you are about to join them..." With this said, it's hand shot forward again, grabbing Marty by the neck, pulling him in enough to see that this being was male. A lock of blue hair was visible.

The Darkon family had tough, warm skin on their forms... However, this Druid had scales-scales in which scratched Marty as he held him. 'Didn't he say he was Darkon?' Marty thought. 'But, he looks as if he would be one of my race!' the dragon/mortal exclaimed to himself as he reacted quickly. His still-drawn sword lashed out, coming up between this cloaked male and his neck, nicking the druid's wrist just barely, and drawing blood. The blue-haired being relinquished the grasp he had upon Marty, taking a step back and speaking again.

"Don't make this so difficult, Fordling," he sneered. In that same moment Marty darted within the darkness of the night, making his way back to Camelot Reborn. "Slippery Child," the figure whispered, "I wish I could have been so lucky." It then darted away, following the young Ford to Camelot.</body>

Site Copyright © 2001-2020 Soul of a Poet, All Rights Reserved.
All works on this site are copyright their original authors.
You wasted 0.0017 seconds of the server's life.