Fantastical Ramblings Read Free Page A

rhythms. He recognized Hera’s peacock blue
eyes, searching, ever searching. Another shadow, fleeing her. Fleeing toward
something bright. A bright sword blade. He also saw a cloaked figure,
prematurely grey of beard and hair, hiding a second sword in this very cave.
    Hastily, Herakles looked toward The Merlin to make sure the
old man hadn’t tricked him with reflections and shadows. Merlin stood off to
one side, head bowed, the sword resting quietly in his hands.
    “I sought the pattern,” The Merlin said, as if sensing
Herakles’ gaze. “That is how I found your hiding place. I sought a place to
secrete a different sword and found a better weapon for my purposes. But for
its full potential to be unleashed and controlled, it must be given not stolen.”
    “I can’t allow the sword loose into the chaos that rules the
world in the time I left. I do not foresee an early end to the swath of
destruction left behind by the sea raiders.”
    “The sword does attract a great deal of notice.” The Merlin
chuckled as he hefted the weapon, assessing its balance. “Clever of you to hide
it in the future, at a time when it can be used for good. I sense someone
seeking it even now. She? She has ties to you and through you to the sword. This
power within the blade is easily recognizable. Reforging might shift the
pattern enough to disrupt her search. Can you reshape the blade? Something
longer and more slender? The kind of warfare my hero wages will require a
longer reach and a shift of the balance.”
    “I have been many things, including a blacksmith. But this
sword was forged by Hephaestus. I’m not certain anyone but a god could change
it.”
    “Was it the forger or the nature of the star-iron itself
that makes this weapon so formidable?” The Merlin asked, raising one white
eyebrow. “You are Zeus’s son, the strongest man on Earth. If anyone can work
this metal, it is you.”
    Reforging might alter the pattern of power within the blade
enough to divert Hera for a little while, give him time to find a new hiding
place. Or working the blade might show him a way to destroy it. “I will try,
though I am but half a god. Do you have a forge?”
    “This altar stone will suffice for an anvil”
    “The altar will splinter at the first strike of a hammer.”
    The Merlin smiled with half his mouth. His eyes danced with
mischief. He was younger than his white hair suggested. “I think not. I have
hidden sea coal, tools, and water buckets deeper in the cave.”
    “Then let us to work.” Herakles stripped off his shirt and
stretched in preparation of wielding hammer and fire.
    Very quickly, heat from the burning coals filled the cavern
and coursed through Herakles’ veins. He thrust the sword into the brazier much
as he had thrust the torch into the signal fire. Tiny flames licked at the
black lumps of coal within the makeshift forge. He watched for what seemed an
eternity. The sword was slow to take the heat. Its tip remained bright steel
gray. He added more coal. The tiniest bit of red glowed at the sword point.
    “The fire has to be hotter,” he said. He couldn’t fail now.
    The Merlin knelt beside the brazier and blew at the base of
the fire. His breath came longer and steadier than an ordinary man’s. A cloud
of sparkling mist surrounded the coals then sank into them. Instantly the fire
blazed hotter. The old man sat back on his heels, blinking tiredly. “That
should help,” he said.
    The glow of red crept up the sword blade. The crystals
reflected the heat and light, adding to the burning coal. Gradually the red
blade turned white. A sense of triumph bloomed inside Herakles. With The Merlin’s
magic and his strength, they just might achieve the impossible.
    He moved the sword onto the altar and raised the hammer. He
closed his eyes as he swung, expecting the stone to shatter. He heard only the
resounding ring of metal against metal.
    Another blow and another. He watched the sword carefully as
the blade flattened,