Wednesday, January 7, 2009


There are times I do not know if I love my sword or hate it. Its power terrifies me sometimes. It lusts to take life and seems to draw strength from doing that. It seems to have a mind of its own when I am in battle on occasion.

I remember my father taking me to the armory as a child. He opened a seldom-touched chest in a far corner. He showed me the worn leather scabbard that held Deathsong. He also showed me the ancient runes on the guard of the weapon. I did not know how to read them, so my father told me their meaning: "Whosoever wields this sword wields the curse of death. For if none is taken, yours shall be the sacrifice."

I can never draw Deathsong without taking a life. If I fail to do this, I shall be slain by the blade. So I am always extremely careful when I take out the sword.

My father told me time and again "Take heed with how you wield Deathsong, my son. For this sword must one day be used to destroy the sorceress Morrigan."

Morrigan is a legend. I doubt she exists. The Ansgarian warriors I fight are not human--unlike those soldiers she controlled a thousand years ago. My ancestor King Ahearn fought her army with Deathsong and won. And she disappeared.

Deathsong makes the Ansgarians far easier to fight. But, alas, the blade still scares me.

Bruce Skye, fantasy book, fantasy novel, Grayrider, new book release, sci fi fantasy, science fiction and fantasy

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