Jonathan’s Dream (An Adventure Novel)
(Copyright 1984, Mark D. Jones, All Rights Reserved)
Chapter Seven, Part Four
Jonathan ducked and braced for impact from whatever was hurtling out of the sky, but amazingly there was no impact. Instead, he felt Amroth’s tail feathers brush against the top of his head and the wind rushing by as the great eagle passed low directly above him at a high rate of speed. Amroth dropped two silver swords into the grass before reaching the boys, and then raced on low across the meadow towards two figures a stone’s throw away hiding in the grass.
In a moment, as the two cloaked figures tried to run, King Amroth’s talons grabbed them in mid-flight and picked them off their feet, before throwing them lifeless to the ground. Other great golden eagles were in pursuit of a number of Nierron’s riders on horseback, clearly preventing the ambush that had awaited Dijia and Jonathan around the next turn in the cart path. In a matter of minutes it was all over, as the eagles rose again on thermals to great heights while soaring on magnificent fifteen foot wingspans.
Jonathan quickly gathered his wits, dismounting in a hurry to look for the silver swords Amroth dropped in the tall grass nearby. Dijia hadn’t seen the swords fall, or much of anything during the close encounter, as Nactar rose up in fright and both he and the horse had fallen over onto the path. Luckily for Dijia, Nactar hadn’t fallen directly on him, and quickly scrambled back on his feet after his hindquarters struck the ground.
Dijia hadn’t been completely spared though, as he was thrown clear in the process, but was now dusting himself off and checking to make sure everything was in one piece – for both Nactar and himself.
“Are you okay, Dijia?” asked Jonathan frantically as he ran up to his friend carrying two silver swords, both looking as if they contained a flow of energy within them.
Dijia replied, “Yes, Jonathan, it appears so, and more importantly Nactar seems to have had only just a close call. What happened a moment ago? I didn’t see a thing, only felt the rush of a great wind and shrieks in the distance afterwards.”
“It was King Amroth and his eagles, Dijia – I know him because I was there one day when Gramps had a conference with him – the eagles saved us and delivered two silver swords to us in the process. There were two riders approaching from over there in the grass,” pointed out Jonathan. “Amroth flew low and took care of them, while other eagles attacked what must have been a raiding party nearby on horseback that was waiting to ambush us. Here, take this sword and let’s look them over.”
The two boys held and examined the two identical swords, light to the touch and ornately made, and annotated with an unknown script running the length of their blades. Each had an intricate hilt guard wrapping around the hilt to protect the user’s hand, cast like the rest of the sword in a fine, silvery metal – while the grip itself was wrapped in a fine, narrow length of glove leather.
“I know this work, Jonathan, or at least something that resembles it,” explained Dijia excitedly. “My father had a ceremonial sword that was presented to him by an emissary from the north years ago after my father rescued sailors from a shipwreck on our shores, and provided them with a new vessel to sail home. It was long before my time, but from the inscription on this blade, I’d say it was from Sylthar Wood as it resembles the script on my father’s sword. I know all the other tongues in the north, but this isn’t one of them – I’ve never known anything of the mysterious Wood, so that’s why I think these swords were made there.”
“Look how light they feel in the hand, Dijia, yet from appearance alone they seem to have the manner of great strength within them.”
Supporting the blade while resting it flat across his free hand, Dijia examined the blade in close detail. “Look, Jonathan, light flows within the metal, see how it dances before your eyes? The inscription runs the length of the blade from tip to hilt, the same on both sides. There’s a word written here that I do understand though, it’s the word ‘Light’ – these are magical swords, Jonathan – I’m sure they were crafted in Sylthar Wood.”
“I bet they were sent to us by Gramps, Dijia! He must not have been able to deliver them himself, and gave them to King Amroth to find us – that’s the only answer. Hope remains after all!”
Dijia lifted his sword above his head and pointed it towards the sky. In that moment a bright flash like a thin bolt of lightning left the sword’s tip and leapt into the sky, dissipating into an array of miniature slivers of raw energy. Glancing towards Jonathan while lowering his sword again, Dijia said, “There’s always hope, Jonathan, never forget that…”
With that having been said, Jonathan’s thoughts quickly returned to Hampton and the farm – while Sammy looked up from Jonathan’s feet with knowing eyes…