The Dreamer and the Sword

By V. L. Eriksen and Sheila Woods

On a mythical island, a boy is given Poseidon's sword and begins a hero's quest. Tommiwa begins his adventure with dreams of finding golden treasure. He ends his adventure a hero who has defeated evil and won freedom for his island and the the people he loves. Join ten-year old Tommiwa, his dare-devil little sister and seven magical creatures on a breathtaking adventure. The Dreamer and the Sword is a literary fantasy of aproximately 190 print pages. The author holds a master of fine arts degree in creative writing and has taught at both the elementary and university level. This is her first middle-grade novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781624884320

Book preview

1

THE LEGEND

Read to me out of the book of prophesy

which tells the coming of Poseidon

and how his quest will start.

Read how once a century

he wanders from the sea

to find a child with a hero’s heart.

I’m going to do a horribly wicked thing. When we have come to the end, I hope you will forgive me. There is only one way to start this story. And that is with the Dreamer and the magic sword.

The Dreamer was a horribly bored boy who lived on a magical island a very long time ago. The boy’s name was Tommiwa, and the magical island was called The Isle of Pines. Now you would think living on a magical island could not be boring. But if you are hungry and hopeless and the magic always happens to someone else, then daydreams can become your secret treasure. And if every now and then you should find a magic sword in your daydreams, well that is even better.

And so we will begin.

Only the Keeper of The Book of Prophesy was allowed to read its pages. So only the Keeper truly knew the secrets of Poseidon’s magic sword. But the legend of the sword was passed from parent to child, and it was believed by the people of the island. Now in the time I tell of, Poseidon ruled the waters and all that swam beneath or upon the surface of the waters. And his power was held in fear and reverence.

It was because of this reverence for Poseidon, both the wonder and the fear, that one autumn sunrise everyone gathered on the ocean shore. Then the Keeper read to the people out of The Book of Prophecy, which tells the coming of Poseidon and foretells his coming again. She read to them how once every hundred years Poseidon, king of the ocean, takes the shape of a man and walks among them. And how he chooses a child to be the Lord of the Sword, Asbold.

Be aware, she told them, for the hundred years has come round, and Poseidon walks among us. This is the year the child will be chosen. This is the year the sword will be found. But, she cautioned, Poseidon has commanded that no one search for the sword. For if the wrong fingers touch it, death by fire awaits."

Now every child dreamed of finding the sword. Some even disobeyed Poseidon’s command and searched for it. But they could not find it. The forest had hidden it long ago.

On the island, to the east of the village and the harbor, stood an ancient and enchanted forest where humans were forbidden to wander. For wolves howled there at night, and the trees whispered ancient secrets humans were not allowed to hear. From this forbidden forest wide and grassy meadows sloped down to the village and the sunny ocean shore. But in back, the dark trees opened to meadowlands that climbed until they reached the base of a snow-topped mountain.

It was in this ancient and magical forest that the sword lay buried. Every year for a hundred years, sticks, leaves, and pine needles covered the sword. It was a treasure the trees held close and wanted to keep. But the wind knew the forest could not keep it. The sword waited for Poseidon’s Chosen Child.

So it happened on Tommiwa’s tenth birthday, the wind blew through the forest. Inch by inch the leaves and pine needles whirled away until the sword’s bright blade gleamed in the sun. Then the wind slipped away from the trees and blew across the meadowland to the bright ocean shore. There, with the scent of pine trees clinging to it, the wind whispered in the boy’s ear. It called him, coaxed him; it led him up from the sun-flecked sea to the darkness of the forest where the sword lay hidden.

There half buried under sticks and red-brown pine cones lay the sword. Even in the trees’ dark shadows, its silver blade gleamed like a thin streak of pooled water. When the Dreamer knelt to brush away the sticks and pine cones, he saw the golden hilt with the blood-red stones.

This was not an ordinary sword. Forged for Poseidon in the depths of the ocean a thousand years ago, its name was Asbold. There was nothing in the world that could break the sword or even leave a scratch upon its surface. A massive, straight blade weapon, Asbold was so heavy even the strongest warrior had to hold it in both hands.

The boy stared at the sword with dark eyes that were big and wide with wonder. He longed to hold the sword, but he was afraid to touch it. Every magical sword has a spirit all its own. The spirit that lived in Asbold was like the sun emerging from a cloud to look for the first time upon a dark land where something nameless and evil roams. A light so pure that when the bright light is revealed, every evil thing pauses in its wicked act to look upon the light in terror. For every evil thing is burned away. Where there was night there is day; where there was death there is life.

So bright and so pure glowed the spirit of Asbold, if anyone other than Poseidon’s Chosen One touched it, the sword would burn that person to ashes.

It was for this reason Tommiwa was afraid to touch the sword. Once again the wind whispered to the Dreamer. So the boy reached out to touch the ruby covered hilt.

As his sun browned fingers closed upon the hilt, power surged through his body. Yes! He was Poseidon’s Chosen Child!

Tommiwa lifted the heavy sword and ran his hand along the blade. For a hundred years it had slept on the forest floor. Through the years, as it lay lonely and waiting, it had become so blunt it could barely pierce an opponent’s flesh. Now, as the boy ran his finger across the metal, there arose a humming along the blade. Then that narrow strip of unearthly steel began to whisper to the boy. It told him of a treasure cave in the distant mountain. It whispered what Poseidon would have him do.

As it warned him of the dangers, the sword grew sharp.

When Asbold grew quiet, Tommiwa stepped forward and holding the sword in both hands swung it up and over his head flashing an arc in the air. And although the dark-haired boy was as thin as a willow, the heavy sword felt light and true in his hands.

Then Tommiwa’s keen, brown eyes saw something on the ground that had not been there before—a leather sheath with a golden buckle. Although the sword was ancient, the sheath was new, and its belt fit perfectly around him. He sheathed the mighty sword. He was ready!

Tommiwa began his journey to the east where miles away there rose up a snow-topped mountain. Hidden at the bottom of that mountain was a pirate’s cave filled with all the treasure ever stolen from all the ships at sea, and all the gold ever given for captives sold as slaves.

No one was safe on the sea. Fishermen who ventured out too far were taken captive right off their boats. The pirates had even taken fishermen from Tommiwa’s little village. Then they would sell them to the slave traders who took their captives far away, to the land of ice and snow. In those days, the name of the Pirate King was Nehor, and his golden teeth and flaming red hair sent fear into the heart of all those who sailed upon the sea. It was to Nehor’s treasure cave the sword told Tommiwa he must go. Soon Asbold would take revenge on the cruel man who murdered and stole treasure on Poseidon’s ocean.

The sun was setting when Tommiwa walked into the woods that led to the base of the mountain. Armed men, the pirate king’s body guards, patrolled this place so close to the treasure cave. The sky was turning black, and he was in pirate territory. Now he walked slowly listening and watching with dilated eyes that grew black and full of sight, like a cat’s.

Fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet. The birds had begun their evening chatter, and the song of a white-throated sparrow floated toward him, sweet, sweet. The autumn air smelled of pine and moss, and the trees cast dark shadows across the path. Above his head the trees whispered a warning not to take another step forward. But they were silent about the danger that lurked behind them.

A shadow from a nearby tree caught his eye. Tommiwa walked quickly past. When he was well beyond the tree, he swung round to face it. He gathered all his vision into a concentrated spark upon the tree. Nothing moved. If anything lurked behind the tree, it neither breathed nor stirred. And Tommiwa waited.

Not a tree whispered; not a leaf crunched. Even the birds had fallen silent. All the boy could hear was his own beating heart. As he watched it seemed to him the shadow moved. A sword flashed! Then Tommiwa drew out screaming from his sheath, the mightiest sword in the world. He raised the sword as if it were part of his body—as if he had always been a warrior.

2

PIRATE TREASURE

…and the moon, guider of tides,

friend to Poseidon,

will guide the child

chosen of Poseidon.

A short while later Tommiwa watched the first white star gleam in the sky and tried to recall his journey through the woods. All he could remember was a blur of shadows and light—the shadows of men who had leapt out at him and the gleam of their swords. Asbold had defeated every one of them.

Darkness settled over everything. In the darkness, the pale moon guided Poseidon’s hero. It poured down cascades of moonbeams to light a silver path. Holding Asbold in front of him, in both his hands, Tommiwa walked the silver path. Above, on an overhanging rock, narrowed eyes watched him and waited. Suddenly the long shape leaped down. Terrible and beautiful, the she-wolf, Moriata, stood before him. The muscles on her back rippled and her fur stood on end. The hot breath of her nostrils steamed into the night air. Moriata was the pirate king’s most faithful bodyguard. She would not let him past.

The wolf studied the human intruder with yellow eyes. She bared her teeth. The points of her teeth glistened. Saliva dripped from her mouth. Her eyes fixed on his throat.

Tommiwa stood without movement, without breath. His hands tightened on the hilt of the magic sword with a mixture of excitement and despair. For the first time, the sword felt heavy in his hands. This was, after all, an animal protecting her master, and he did not want to use Asbold against her. Perhaps if he took a step backwards, the beast would not attack. Slowly, without taking his eyes off the wolf, Tommiwa took one step back.

But the wolf took a step forward. Down she crouched! And for the first time in his life Tommiwa heard the sound a wolf makes when it is threatened. It was a deep, hollow, guttural growl, and he felt it as well as heard it. Chills went up his spine.

Then with a howl she sprang.

The Dreamer froze like a stone, but Asbold moved of its own and plunged between her forelegs and into her heart. Tommiwa held on. There was a horrible moment, like something out of a nightmare. Asbold was pushing and the wolf was snarling. Everything was blood and heat. Then Moriata lay still at his feet. Sick at heart and sick to his stomach, he drew Asbold out of her. He left her there and stumbled into the moonlit entrance of the cave.

He stood in a wide tunnel. Still holding Asbold in both hands, he began walking down the darkening passage. The bloody sword dripped quietly along the ground.

I am ashamed to say Tommiwa was so excited about the adventure that lay before him he forgot a warrior must always wipe the blood of a valiant enemy from his sword. It is a sign of respect. That mistake would prove costly.

The Dreamer moved slowly down the darkening passage. Soon he was shuffling his feet in pitch-black darkness. Tommiwa could not see it, but in front of him the path ended in a cliff. If he continued forward he would fall to his death. When he was a foot from the edge, the tip of the sword fell to the ground to stop him. Then the sword began to glow. Now he could see the danger. A drop off!

How deep was it? He spied a fist-sized rock, picked it up and threw it over the edge. And listened. Silence. One more step and he would step into a never ending fall! Tommiwa caught his breath, took a step back and clutched the sword with both his hands. Once again the sword began to move. Its tip rose up and pointed to the right. Then the light radiating from the sword began to grow. Now he could see. The tunnel had opened into a vast cavern, and far to his right a narrow bridge crossed the ravine. He walked slowly to the bridge and over it. The sword nudged him the left or pulled him to the right guiding him safely to the other side. Once he was safely on the other side, Asbold’s light began to dim until it was pitch-black darkness once again.

So the Dreamer walked slowly down the black passage with Asbold guiding him until dark became dim and he could see the flicker of torch light ahead. Now, as he came closer to the light, Tommiwa walked quickly straining to see. When the passage opened into a great room, he stopped and flattened himself against the tunnel wall.

Before him rose a vast room, and in the middle stood a long table covered with bags of golden coins. The benches that ran alongside the table glittered with gold and silver. At the far end of the table, a burning torch lit piles of sapphires as blue as the sea and rubies as red as blood. Tommiwa could see Nehor, the pirate king, bent over a chest of gold coins in the middle of the table. His claw like fingers counted the booty.

Tommiwa took a deep breath, and lowering the tip of the magic sword to the ground, stepped into the pirate’s