Sword and Urn

SWORD AND URN (A Novella)

Copyright 2016 Dan Absalonson

Edited by Sanjeet Dhaliwal

Published by Dan Absalonson at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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http://www.dandantheartman.com/

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DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to those who helped me improve it by reading it in its pre published state. I really appreciated all your comments and they helped me make a lot of great improvements to the story.

Becky Thompson

Sarah Celiann Uhl

Martin Spernau

Micha Fire

Nancy Absalonson

Steven Keller

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank and acknowledge Sanjeet Dhaliwal for her hard work and many hours editing this book for me. I’m very grateful for all the time she spent on it. The prose is much cleaner thanks to her. Her edits really helped me improve this book.

I am also very thankful for the great story edits I received from my favorite Canadian author Michell Plested. He was really good at pointing out parts of my story that needed to be reworked, changed, or cut. Thanks to him this is a much stronger book. Go read his books–they're awesome!

Chapter 1

A lot of people came into the market with swords for selling or trading, but these men had theirs drawn as weapons to fight. There were only two of them, but they were big guys who seemed to know what they were doing by the confident way they held their blades. They came in behind two horses pulling them on a big wagon. The back of the wagon was flat with a cage over it. Inside were several boys about my age. They looked tired, dirty, and scared.

The men parked in the middle of our village market and got off their wagon. They pulled their swords out of their scabbards after dropping down to the dirt. One of them yelled to get everyone’s attention.

We are here by order of your king for recruitment into his Royal Army! Any young man able to wield a sword is to come with us. Your king needs you in this time of war.

Everyone was silent, until I heard a disappointed grunt come from my father Aren beside me. He looked at me with such a serious expression it scared me.

Drade? he said.

Yes Father?

Stay behind the table.

I nodded. He reached under our merchandise table and grabbed his old army sword. He’d always kept it in fine condition. The one item he was never talked into selling, even during the few times we were in great need. It would have had us set for months, but he always said he might need it again someday.

He walked out to meet the men with his sword up in front of him. A fellow merchant name Rory yelled to him.

Aren! What are you doing? Just stay in the crowd! You’re going to get yourself killed!

My father ignored him. He looked ready for a fight, and I could tell he didn't trust these men. Then with his voice as deep as the village well, he bellowed out to them for all to hear.

Tell me soldiers, why are these boys in something of a cage? What contraption rides behind your horses?

They didn’t reply. My father kept going.

I served under the King. It was a great honor and an experience I’ll never forget. I was never dragged out of my village like this. The army was a welcome opportunity for me. It was how I left my father’s farm and came to be in this great village—selling my wares instead of breaking my back for a living. I keep current on the news of the kingdom, and I have heard no tell of war. So why is it that you only want boys? There are plenty of strong men here as well.

He held his sword up and stared at them. They opened their mouths as if to speak but looked at each other and then back to my father and said nothing. I had never seen my father Aren like this. I knew he was confident, it was one reason he was good at selling things for a high price and buying them for almost nothing, but this was something new to me.

You have no reply? I can tell you that you are not taking my boy with you. The King has had plenty of service from me. My son will be staying with me this day.

Finally the shorter of the two fished a rolled up piece of parchment out of a pocket and spoke.

Those are strong words for one man with one sword. You do not have the authority to question the King’s orders. We have them here signed by the king himself.

He lifted the parchment for all to see.

We will be taking your boy and all the other young men from this village.

Those are easily faked. You are not men who serve my king. If you were you would not act in this way.

Father would never attack a Royal Soldier. They had the same position he once held. He had the utmost respect for soldiers. I knew they were fakes when I saw him give his sword a quick swing, and then hold it up again ready to fight.

If you wish to take my boy then you must face me.

The fear I had kept at a trickle rushed in like a beaver’s dam smashed by the claw of a mighty bear. I looked around at the other men in the market. There was not a fighter among them. None owned a sword. They were mere merchants, tradesmen, farmers and the like—here with Father and I to sell and trade our goods to make a living. The smithy worked with weapons but he was no warrior. I still thought he might help because he knew so much about weapons. I looked over to see where he was and saw that the coward had closed shop and snuck away.

Then I remembered something we had for sale on our table. It was a small bottle containing a magic potion that would give a person great strength for a time. It was the most costly item we had for sale. I figured if my father needed me I could use all the help I could get so I uncorked it and downed it in one go. It tasted awful, like rotten meat, but I could feel the strength entering my body right away.

The soldiers had not moved, holding their swords at their sides. They looked at each other. One of them raised his sword and nodded toward Father. The other shook his head and motioned for his friend to put his sword down. They seemed unsure of what to do. They must not have come across opposition in the other villages they had taken children from. We had no protective force for things like this in our little village. He turned and faced my Father.

We are not looking for a fight good sir. I am Lundrick and this here is Rosdin. We are just here to claim what belongs to our king for the service of his royal army.

Good sir? Fancy swords you have there for talking.

Please, we do not wish to fight you.

Well then you came to the wrong village, Father said. With a sudden rush forward he lunged out at Lundrick, swinging his sword in a great arc.

Chapter 2

The sound of their steel crashing together rang out through the village. People jumped back as it broke the silence. His blow knocked the sword out of the soldier’s hand. My father flew forward. He struck the soldier in the knee with his pommel and then kicked him across the face as the man fell to his side. A horrible sound came from his mouth as he fell, and I saw a father I had never known before. I knew he had been in the army, and had learned to fight and use a sword, but he would never talk about it with me. He never taught me how to use a sword either. He claimed that part of his life was over and we were to enjoy the peace he fought for as a soldier.

All eyes but Father’s were on the man as he fell. Before the man’s broken face hit the dirt my father was already assailing Rosdin. This was no surprise attack, and Rosdin brought his blade up with ease to block Father’s strike. He jumped back, adjusting his grip. Hot anger burned in his face as he raised his sword and charged at my father. He brought his blade down so hard that after Father blocked the blow