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The last steps seemed to take an eternity.
But what was the meaning of the word eternity, when time had stopped? I moved slowly, then more slowly still.
But what did the word slow mean, when time didn’t move? Around me, no one moved at all, as I struggled through my last steps. At last I reached them, and faced the two warriors, my kin if the blood song was true.
I stood there eye to eye with Woltan and Jona.
Woltan smiled. It was written that he who will reunite the bloodlines will carry a blade of power; the hilt and pommel will be silver, the blade, wood. Here in Gammalstan a new blade will be forged.
Jona nodded. We have kept the pieces of the broken blades of the kings of old: King Karlson of the Kriek, King Ludwig of Gammalstan, and King Luciano of the merpeople. They are incomplete, and together make up just a little more than one sword.
Woltan continued. We shall smelt them together to make one true blade. The ancients used a steel which we can no longer create, but we still have the forge, and the smithy. We will make the steel flow again. Reform the blade, purify it with hammer and forge, and then the prince of the three bloodlines will have his sword.
There was a pause, which seemed to last forever. My face started to
itch. Now was not a good time to scratch.
But again, time had stopped, hadn’t it?
All that I was going through had seemed to last an eternity, but wasn’t it all shorter than the blink of an eye?
Back behind me, Kalle and Kara were frozen. The air around them did not move; the silence was total.
Do you have the sword, Anders son of Andrea? Are you the Prince of the three Blood Lines, here united?
I didn’t say anything. It turned out I didn’t need to. The sky turned suddenly dark, and I felt a change in the air.
I drew my blade, and suddenly the air moved again around me, and the wooden blade went up high. I held it by the silver hilt that glowed in my hand. The hilt grew hotter from moment to moment.
The glow from the blade lit up the sky and the pavement beneath me. Even the air seemed to buzz with energy and light and song.
I couldn’t hold back any longer.
The sword sang out in my hand. The vibrations shook my arm, moved through my body and down my leg to the ground, to the pavestones that vibrated beneath my feet.
I’m a boy with a sword, it sang for me. Was I their prince? Let the blood tell me.
Then it was over, and suddenly dark ground rushed up to meet my face.
Chapter IX
I woke up in a bed. The mattress was hard and firm, made of some kind of woven fibers. I felt exhausted but safe and, almost, at home. I looked around: there was no one else in the room. The room was warm, but comfortable. Next to my bed, there was a jug, and a glass.
I realized suddenly how incredibly thirsty I was. I wondered when I last had a glass of water. I filled the glass, and drank. It wasn’t water, but juice of some unfamiliar fruit — very sweet, but maybe slightly fermented.
I wondered if I was going to get drunk. That was all I needed. I did enough crazy things sober.
I emptied the cup, and filled it again. I drank the second cup.
The moon shone through the window, and there were torches outside too. I looked around the room, and felt very relaxed. Maybe the juice was alcoholic. Or had I been drugged? I felt somehow safe. My lids felt very heavy, and I lay back down.
Again, I slept.
And I dreamed.
I was in my own bed, the sun shone through my room, and my mother Andrea was calling me. No. That wasn’t right. Something was strange — her voice sounded foreign. When I looked at her, her face was cloudy, blurry, her features shifting. I shook my head to clear it and my mother was gone, and I heard nothing but the echo of her voice.
Was I awake, now?
