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(Page 1 of 2) Sword Play by Jerry Bridges
SWORD PLAY
Embedded two feet into the cavern's floor, the sword still stood five feet high. Inset in its pommel was a huge diamond; the transparent blade had a green falcon embedded near its center. An old man of proportions to fit the huge sword was seated beside it, chiseling away at the rock encasing it. It had indeed been the Smith/ War God of his culture who had forged it. More than the old man's size and girth matched the unusual sword, the beaded green falcon on his leather loinclout and vest also matched it.
Holding his hammer in hand, Lear said, "I have you now! Once more and you're free!"
The blade flashed deep red; the pulse starting from within the pommel and continuing through the clear blade and fifteen feet of stone disintegrated below it leaving a circular hole just wide enough for the two-foot pommel to fit as the sword plummeted out of his desperate, leaping grasp.
Laying aside the chisel and hammer, the barbarian chief paced until his anger abated. Finally, he knelt beside his pack and pulled out a neatly folded rope and hook. For hours he futilely tried to yank the sword out, but to no avail. The sword kept dodging his hook.
Exasperated, he shouted, "Quit moving, Ogrebane!"
Drawing a deep breath, he said, "Yes, I know if I hadn't sunk you in the stone ten years ago, you wouldn't be mad at me now!"
He paused as if in conversation with someone, but no one was present but the sword. He continued, "But you killed my grandson. So yes, I stabbed you into the stone and swore never to use you again."
"How did that make you feel? How should I know? You're a sword! A bloody, stinking sword! Quit moving and let me catch you! I need you! "
"For what?"
"To kill enemies! Stupid talking sword," he grumbled as he continued to work his rope and hook.
"I have you now," he shouted as he rapidly pulled the rope up. As the blade reached the edge of the hole it flashed blue, flew to the cave roof ten feet over the hole, and hovered there. It was a dancing sword, after all.
Lear had been an athlete his entire life. No longer a young man, he could still make that jump, but just as his hand was about to close on the pommel, the sword spun around and spanked him! He fell with a crash.
Worse, the sword was now completely invisible. The Smith God was talented and had poured all of His abilities into the forging of this blade for his Champion. After surveying the entire cave, and walking in complete silence as only a true hunter could do, he finally gave up and crawled around the cave probing the crevices with his hands.
The much-humbled warrior mumbled, "At least no one is here to see my shame." He heard footsteps from the cave entrance...
"Lear! Honey! You've been three days up here! Haven't you gotten Ogrebane free yet?"
Lear whimpered and collapsed.
Rana, his petite half-elf wife, hurried to him.
"Honey! Are you hurt?"
"No," he answered, a low moan escaping his throat. "He's hiding from me. I finally got him out an hour or two ago and he spanked me.
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