Sword Bearer (Return of the Dragons 1)

Then, two years later, my grandfather had died. I still remembered the pain as he passed away. It’s one of my few clear memories of the time spent in King Lowen’s glass castle. And then, suddenly, we had moved south to Tuscany, taking Giancarlo and Ana with us.

I lit the incense now, took another sip of the tea, and sat up in my chair.

If my head was going to get any clearer, I would feel it now. I tried to empty my mind. I took several deep breaths, looked around. Nothing. I felt nothing at all.

Maybe it was all just flim flam, just an excuse to burn expensive spice and drink brown tea.

I let the cardamon, nutmeg and cinnamon linger on my tongue. My tutor had given me tea tasting lessons once — we’d met in the kitchen, and worked until I could identify not only the spices but the type of tea.

I stared at the wall and wished for a change, took in a deep breath and tasted the incense in the air. I still felt nothing. Nothing but the itchy green clay on my face.

Was I going to spend my whole life locked in this room doing this pointless homework? I’d had enough. I felt anger surge up in me, anger at the years I’d spent stuck here doing nothing.

I took a deep breath and held it. I stood up and picked up my homework. My hands tingled as I crushed all the paper together in a ball. Without thinking about what I was doing, I walked over to the narrow window and stuffed all the paper through.

I sat back down at my empty desk, letting out my breath in a long sigh.

And then the wall fell away.

Chapter III

A bright circle of light blinded me. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the circle was still there, around four feet wide. But now my eyes must have adjusted to the light. I could see a spice shop, and, in the background, a bright summer day shining through an open window.

It was Spice, the shop I had just been thinking about.

I blinked, tried to turn away, but my eyes were drawn back to the circle.

I squinted my eyes and looked at the edges.

You could see a little jagged edge where the dark wall of my room in the tower met the circle of the brightly lit spice shop.

I stood up and shook my head, to see if the image wavered. But it all stayed rock solid. Now, standing up, I saw something in the shop. Something, or rather, someone, was crouched towards the back.

In the corner, underneath a table.

It was a girl, maybe my age. She was beautiful. Her perfect skin seemed to glow in the bright golden light. Her hair, too, was golden like corn silk.

She seemed to be waiting silently for something, her eyes wide open, her body tensed, as if she was ready to run, or to strike.

She moved her head silently from side to side, and then, suddenly, she froze.

She was staring right at me.

At my face covered with green clay.

She raised a finger to her full lips. She winked her beautiful emerald eyes, and she smiled.

I started to say something. I wanted to explain why my face was covered in green gunk. I wanted to ask her who she was, how come her ears were slightly pointed, why she was crouched in the corner of the shop. But she shook her head, and put her finger to her lips again.

I nodded, hypnotized by her beautiful skin, her full lips.

She must have been my age, give or take a year, but she was beautiful.

What was going on?

This was clear thinking?

Putting holes in reality, creating circular gateways in the walls of my small stone room? Looking at beautiful girls?