Sword Bearer (Return of the Dragons 1)

I ate quickly but not hurriedly, letting myself enjoy the food. The rolls were delicious, and there was goat butter, but the best, although not the tastiest, was the hot cereal. It seemed to calm my stomach and relax the rest of my body.

I tried to sort through my dreams. Who was this man, with the green eyes, who called me neffe? Didn’t that mean nephew? The man of my dreams was obviously some powerful dark wizard, so why was he saying neffe to me?

All I knew about my own uncle was that he had left when I was still a baby and that my parents refused to talk about him. Which wasn’t much, really, since they hardly ever talked about anything with me. But they had been particularly closed-mouthed about my uncle, even when I would ask questions. Obviously I couldn’t ask them anything now. It was just one more frustration.

Could my uncle be some kind of evil wizard? Perhaps even in league with the dark lord? I shook my head.

It was just a dream, wasn’t it? It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

But then I felt myself break out in a cold sweat.

What had the keiler called me? And the demons, too?

Herr.

I didn’t feel like eating any more. Was I related to some great dark wizard, perhaps even to the dark lord? Was that why the dark lord’s followers had pledged me allegiance before dying? What could it all mean? Good thing I had already finished my porridge and bread, because now all I wanted was answers to a bunch of questions. But there was no one to answer them.

I needed to talk to someone.

I looked around the dining room. Karsten smiled and walked over. I was happy to see him, until I remembered my problem.

His smile faded when he saw the pained look on my face.

“Your skin looks good, my friend,” he said. I guess he was trying to cheer me up.

“Goat’s milk,” I said. “Kara convinced me. And some charcoal soap that Jona found me.”

I didn’t say anything then, but Karsten could already read me like an open book.

“You look like something is troubling you, Anders.”

I shrugged. “Dreams.”

His face lit up. “My mother is a great witch, and her specialty is the reading of dreams. She trained me in her art, and wanted me to follow in her path, but I followed another.” He smiled and pointed to the rolls in the bread basket. “I was very gifted, my mother said, but there came a point where I realized my heart wasn’t in it. I know now I prefer to reach people’s hearts through their stomachs, and that I was born to be a cook.”

He sat down across from me. “But tell me about your dreams, if that will ease your mind. I’ll tell you what I can. You can meet my mother as well, if I can’t help you.”

I frowned. “I don’t want to take you away from your work.”

Karsten shrugged. “I’ve been baking since three o’clock this morning. I’m as entitled to a break as the next baker.”

I sighed. “You think talking about it will help?”

Karsten nodded. “In my experience, talking about a problem always helps.”

I nodded, and told him about the green-eyed man with the dark cloak, who had called me Neffe.

“Did you dream with your third eye, as well?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you see his aura?”

I nodded. “It was dark red, almost the color of blood.”

Karsten had lost his smile. “Have you told anyone about this?”

I shook my head.