The Swordkey

By Robert K. Miller and Christopher Underwood

Even arch-angels like to play, so after Satan has left heaven, the rest try their hands at playing demi-god for a time . . . When it is time for them to return they make their Master a challenge they will pick a champion and so will God, whichever contestant wins they will have control of the Earth and its inhabitants . . Okay so not everything goes as planned . . . What happens when both men die

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257543847

Book preview

2010

PROLOG

On the seventh day God rested.

On the eighth day Lucifer revolted, and this war has yet to see an end.

On the ninth day the other archangels become known as gods to man. For this God gives them leeway for they still have sworn allegiance to God.

Time passes and God decides that it is time that the archangels give up their playing ‘god’ and come back and fulfill their duties to him. Some are tried and see the error of what they have been doing; others have not. These others challenge God. He accepts and sets up the event and the rules.

The prize will be dominion of the world.

Let the battle begin…

CHAPTER ONE

SERVANT

The year is twenty-eight A.D. and the man known as Jesus of Nazareth travels to Jerusalem for the celebration of the Passover. Jesus has preformed what has been referred to as ‘miracles’ and ‘blessings‘; he has gathered a large group of followers and has become a treat to the Roman government and the Jewish religion.

Upon arriving in Jerusalem, Jesus dismounts the colt in front of the house of a friend. Turning his head towards the nearest temple he comes face to face with a young man he knows all too well. The man has shoulder length black hair, a slim build with dark mysterious black eyes. Good morning Quvedar, I hope you’re enjoying this fine day as much as I am.

Sadly I am not me Lord; the young man catches this breath. My father, Abram, has suddenly been stricken with a vile illness. The alchemists claim that he is on his deathbed. But I know that you could heal him Lord if you would only come with me, please. Quvedar begins to lead Jesus to his home until the Lord stops him.

I will miss your father; he has been one of my most faithful. I will pray for his soul which will soon meet my father, Jesus stopped, kneeled and begins a prayer for the dying man

Quvedar steps forward and grabs Jesus’ collar, pulling him to his feet, What do you mean you’ll miss him? Quvedar shouted in Jesus’ face, You can heal him and you’re just going sit there and let him die?

God has a plan, and it is your father’s time to pass on the next level of existence. Jesus speaks in a cool steady tune as he removes Quvedar’s hands from his collar. We all have a path to follow. I will follow mine as you WILL do yours, so bare your pain and carry on, with nothing more to say that could comfort the young man Jesus turns and heads towards the temple.

"TO HELL WITH YOUR GOD’S PLAN! I curse his existence, and his plan. From this point on I vow to do everything I can to smite him with all that I am till I breathe no more. Quvedar curses Jesus and spits on the ground in front of the world’s savior before he turns to inform his father of what has transpired.

Upon reaching his father’s home Quvedar stops in front of the building unable to enter it and see his father lying there, dying. Sadness starts to come over the young Jew along with stoking his hatred for the messiah. Looking up from the ground Quvedar sees a tall, cloaked figure standing in the shadows of the house. You see Yahweh cares nothing for mortals such as you and your father. Only for his own greedy wants and desires the voice was no more than a whisper, but it was as clear as the day.

And I suppose that you claim to have the ability to save my father, snapping at the figure.

Sadly no for the God you call Yahweh has made it impossible for me and my comrades to affect his people, the voice informs the young man. But working through you, we can take vengeance against this God. I will contact you later, for now go and be with your father before it’s too late, the shadowy figure disappears in front of Quvedar’s eyes leaving him astounded and with nothing but his anger to drive him to search for answers.

Entering the interior of his father’s home Quvedar’s servants report that his father’s condition has worsened. Would you bring some more cool water from the well? It will help relive some of his discomfort; he asks and bows his head to thank them. Reaching his father’s room he sees his mother Jeza sitting at his side, holding his hand, praying for her husband. The sight of this fills the younger Jew with even more rage; he is blinded by red spots in his vision when he shouts Don’t waste your time praying to this God of Abraham, he cares only for his own sadistic desires! You would be more successful asking the devil to heal my father! His voice echoed through the halls of the residence and he immediately leaves his father’s room.

Leaning against the wall outside of the room Quvedar closes his eyes to try and calm himself and think of what to do to help his father. In the silence he hears a faint sound and follows it outside of the manor to the servant’s quarters. There he finds his mother’s handmaid on her knees holding a small idol and speaking in her native tongue, Egyptian. To whom do you pray Nefra? Quvedar asks gently, hoping not to startle her.

Jumping to her feet in a blink of an eye, Nefra shoves the idol into the sleeve of her servant garb and begins to apologize. My deepest apologies, young master, I know your father has forbidden us from praying to our native gods. But his health is not improving and I only wish to see… Oh, please forgive me, Nefra cries out and falls back to her knees, this time awaiting a lashing.

Don’t worry, I do not wish to punish you. Your prayers are more than welcomed. But who do pray to? His tone of voice never changes; it remains calm and gentle.

I pray to the great Ra to reserve a spot on his boat to give your father a pharaoh's escort to the afterlife. And to Osiris, that he will treat your father’s soul well, Nefra answers while trying to hold back her tears.

Your loyalty to my family has never faltered Nefra. I shall ask Isis to grant you a long and prosperous existence. I would free you from our service, but I must ask you to stay and care for my mother. Would you do that? Quvedar spoke as he would to a child.

Of course I will Nefra turns to leave. Quvedar… let no man turn you from your path. I know you are destined for many great things and take care. She finishes and heads toward the garden to collect herbs.

Returning to his father’s chambers he finds his mother crying and his father reaching blindly into the air calling, Quvedar… Quvedar, where have you gone my son? I cannot find you.

Reaching down Quvedar grasps his father’s hand and holds it tightly, I‘m here father. His voice reassures him.

Take care of our family son, for my time in this realm is coming to an end. Quvedar’s father whispers weakly. Put your faith in the Lord, trust in his path for you, Abram finishes, then closes his eyes and lets go his last breath.

With tears filling his eyes, Quvedar feels rage build within himself again about his father’s death. Even more that he praised an uncaring God with his last breath. He drops his dead father’s hand and runs out of the house. In the street in front of his manor, Quvedar shouts for the man who had spoken to him earlier of revenge. Where are you?! I know you can hear me, I have felt your presence since we met! He shouts angrily.

You are correct I am near, I‘m sorry about your father‘s passing, a calm voice answers as the cloaked figure steps from the shadows between two buildings across the road.

You said I could take my revenge on Jesus and Yahweh. Quvedar shouts stretching out his arm to point his finger at the man. Tell me, he demands, how can I have this revenge?

The figure stands deadly silent for a moment, Quvedar feels like he is burning a hole into his soul. Are you willing to listen to me, obey my command at all cost? The figure breaks the silence sharply. Would you be willing to leave everything you know and are accustomed to, just for revenge? He finishes his questioning.

Without hesitation, only determination in his voice Quvedar answers, Yes.

Good, the figure responds and prepares to give his first order. Mount your steed, prepare for travel, you leave immediately. Travel southwest towards the land of the great pharaohs and the people who once enslaved those of your religion. Travel quickly; and do not stray, you will not see me, but I will be by your side to guide you. Continue riding until I stop you, do not even stop to sleep, the figure disappears into the shadows and his words fade with him. Quvedar turns and leaves immediately.

CHAPTER TWO

PALACE of the GODS

The light begins to fade or Quvedar's eyes begin to adjust to the brightness. The air Quvedar feels is brisk and clean and as early mourning. Disoriented at first he realizes he is standing at the peak of an island mountain then, he realizes he is standing on the famed Greek Mount Olympus.

Quvedar begins to turn so he can capture the entire view of the mountain but he finds an enormous debater’s palace. Just then he realizes he is in the realm of the gods, for in his travels there was no palace built on this mountain.

The reality of this mountain is, spoke a voice beside him, all of the pagonistic gods live here, not just the Greek. Quvedar turned to see his patron the raven headed Osiris. Come, all of the great gods, have agreed to train you to be our Paladin and Mayz, Osiris tells Quvedar as he gestured to the palace.

The palace Quvedar enters is splendid; the greatest of the Greek architects couldn't fathom its design. Huge alabaster pillars seem to hold up the sky, which seems to be its roof. He notices the fleet footed Hermes or Mercury to his right with his winged boots and his well know medicinal rod. On his left he notices somethingdark move behind a pillar. Looking closer, he nearly backs away in terror when the six armed goddess Kali steps out into his view. Of all the gods she was by far the most frightening.

In the distance he sees the gods who are sitting in thrones. One of them is northern, in white robs wearing a crown of leaves, holding a lightning bolt and the other seems to wear the sun on his head. Who are those two? asks Quvedar.

Those are two of the greatest of the pagan gods; explains Osiris The one on the left is my leader, Ra, the great sun god. The other is known as Zeus, the almighty Greek god.

Osiris turns Quvedar to his left and guides him through a pair of double doors. Doors that lead into a great room with walls covered in weapons of war and the two that run parallel to them are covered in bookcases that contain ancient scrolls and books of magic.

This room is where you will spend most of your next several hundred years, Osiris declares with a grin.

What. Quvedar stumbles backs and falls at the statement.

I only said that to test your reaction, Osiris says with a sinister chuckle that sends shivers through Quvedar. You will only feel this passage of about four day us, one that for each area of training, He explained, You will only leave this room to rest as the soul needs rest just as much as the body.

When shall my training begin? Quvedar asks sounding much like a small child at Christmas.

Right now Osiris begins to leave the rooms. "I leave you in the capable hands of my sons Anubis and Ares the Greek god of war.

Quvedar turns in time to see the two gods materialize out of nowhere. Anubis the Egyptian god on the left and the Greek on the right. Anubis stands six to seven feet tall with the head of a jackal and the body of a man his skin as black as night. Ares looked much like a regular man does six feet tall and wearing black leather battle armor.

We will train you in the use of a sword in battle, said Anubis with an instructor, I believe that you will recognize that sword over there Anubis stated gesturing towards the wall that Quvedar had just walked through. Yes the sword looks very familiar to him. Even though Quvedar had just received the sword he knew it like an old friend. He retrieved his sword and lovingly caressed the skull on the hilt and admired the blade that reflected no light, with its name engraved into it Ragnarock.

Anubis stepped forth raising his large wax black staff tipped on each and by semicircular axe blades. I will try you on the offensive aspects of hand to hand combat with your weapon, Anubis stated simply. The mortal body has many different weak points that are extremely fatal if exploited. The human skull can be split open easily. There are several large arteries in the neck, legs, and arms, the vital organs can be accessed through the stomach muscles, and the head can be severed from the body surprisingly easy, Anubis explained intently.

Yes, but how am I to exploit these with a sword, Quvedar asked seriously.

You must wait and I will teach you. There exists a small island country known as Japan, which you are not familiar. They have a special class of guardians who are trained in a special sword style used to manipulate an attacker blow and turn it on them. These maneuvers are effective regardless of strength and extremely deadly. We will begin immediately, prepare to fight and learn, Anubis warned without breaking sentence.

Quvedar spent the next several hours weapon locked with his teacher. He learned proper foot placement and body mechanizes. He feuded off strike after strike from Anubis staff and soon mastered his art. The completion of his training was confirmed by the deflection of Anubis final blow and putting him in a position such that Quvedar lopped off his head in one blow. Anubis retrieved his head and bowed to his student before disappearing.

The sword is a very elegant weapon; Ares broke in almost immediately. The shield is only beneficial to the fully armed knight to defend his unarmed side. I will train you to deflect anything with your sword; neither hand weapon nor projectile weapon will be a danger to you. Blows from a hand to hand weapon are predictable simply learn to watch for the movement of certain muscles in you opponents body to calculate the direction of the blow. A projectile is a little different you must concentrate on the projectile itself. About the time that your brain thinks the arrow is still a good distance away is the time you should move to deflect. This will take some practice; Ares finished without taking a breath.

Ares spent a couple of hours instructing and demonstrating which muscles are used in manipulating certain weapons. Quvedar them practiced predicting which direction Ares blows were directed in real time combat. The projectiles posed a problem and took Quvedar the rest of the day to fully understand. Quvedar was even struck with a few arrows, which Ares healed immediately but he eventually got the nock of it.

Okay. I’m finished. That took an eternity, Quvedar gasped, falling to the floor exhausted from the training.

According to your understanding of time it did Ares said chuckling. Now at the end of your first day one hundred years has passed and under normal circumstances you would have passed to the under world now, Ares happened to mention before he too disappeared.

Osiris appeared at the door of the training room to guide him to the room in which he would rest. The bedroom was vast, beautifully decorated as the rest of the palace. Quvedar dressed in the same comfortable black velvet robes that were laid on his head and then lad down for rest.

You can guide your self to training the next few days; I have things to attend to, Osiris mentioned before Quvedar drifted into a deep sleep.

Quvedar awoke and found clean clothes neatly folded on his nightstand with a not bid on top of them.

This is your new uniform; the one you will war to represent us in battle. They will protect you as much as armor and will ensure your protection. The insignia on your tunic is the new symbol of the united Pagan Gods.

            Osiris

Quvedar dressed himself in a black occult tunic with a black sun on the front well black leather parts and black boots that protected his feet and calves. A large black velvet cloak completed this uniform. Once dressed he made his way to the training room where his instructor stood waiting with her six arms relaxed at her side. Quvedar maintained a normal appearance but deep fear churned inside him.

I can sense your fear of me; Kali’s words exited her lips with a kiss. Normally I would do no harm to one faithful to myself. But I must teach you how to kill mercilessly and fill your heart with darkness and hatred for others. This will be your most unpleasant day of training, of your life.

The hours of the day passed unbearably slow. Kali subjected Quvedar to things he never imagined. She showed him images of death beyond all imagination of which she controlled. She allowed him to see how his loved ones betrayed and forgot him when he left to search for the source of his guide. She also showed him the man who would try to kill him later in life, a north man from a culture Quvedar had no respect for. This image Quvedar would remember forever allowing the thoughts of vengeance and murder to well up in his heart.

After Kali had completely corrupted his mind to the point where he had lost all care for humorist, she began to torture his body. When he was on the verge of death, she would heal him and continues the process until he was completely without remorse or love of anything; he was entirely cold blooded.

I apologize, Kali said without a hint of emotion in her voice, as I said I would normally not subject on of my loyals to torture. And what I have done to you will never completely heal you will always feel pain so you will never pity or shy from acting on someone. Your pain will always be greater than theirs will, but if you fulfill your duties the pain will pars; She finished and faded into darkness.

Quvedar crawled back to his chambers to rest, none of the Gods would help hi, and he had to learn to depend on himself. After he had drug himself into the room he passed out and spent all night on the floor.

At the beginning of the third day Quvedar stood, waiting patently for his teacher when he noticed something flit past him in his peripheral vision. He turned to catch a glimpse of what he saw and nothing was there.

Hello, Quvedar heard the voice of a young man from right behind him. Startled that someone could be standing right behind him n the direction he was just facing confused him greatly. But as he turned there stood a young man with gold plate armor, wind swept hair and winged shoes. He was about eighteen to twenty years old with brown hair and a dark copper completion. My name is Mercury or Hermes if you’d prefer, I am worshipped as a healer by my followers and it is I who will instruct you on how to use the healing attributes of white magic, the gold spoke quickly without pausing to close and open sentences waving his winged wand to aid the words.

Quvedar stood, blank faced, just staring for a few more moments still astounded at the speed of this god. Waking from his daze in a snap, Quvedar spoke, I am willing to learn, as you are willing to instruct.

This day would pass much more pleasantly than the previous one. Quvedar spent the hours hands on with his teacher learning healing incantation, the effects of herbs on the body, potion making and prayers for protection. Quvedar was astounded by the affect of some of the herbs he had never known about, especially the numbing power of the clove and the surprising potency of opium if refined correctly. Quvedar went to his resting chambers not exhausted but enlightened this evening and slept pleasantly for the first time in several days.

Quvedar slept so pleasantly that he awoke late for his next day of training. He sat up startled at a black robed figure sitting in his desk chair across from him. In the wink of an eye the robed figure set forward and grabbed his wrist. Quvedar looked down at the hand that grasped his, the nails were long and sharp and the skin had a greenish tint to it. When Quvedar looked back up he saw the green tinted face of his guest with two long slender horns curved back around his head and a sinister smile across his face the robed figure was a large well built man with long blond hair and green eyes, much like the horse people from the north.

Your discipline is unacceptable; the man said and released an electric shock through Quvedar's hooked up his arm, and through the rest of his body. Black magic is unforgiving, you will die, and your spirit drained of all its energy the minute you forget that. He finished as he violently released Quvedar’s arm.

Who are you? Quvedar asked still grasping his arm in pain.

My name is Lohi. I am the horse god of mischief, and I also control the black arts and give certain powers to my followers. Lohi said covering his head back up with his hood. I will teach you to control the elements, he said holding up his hand, somehow he draw all of the moisture out of the air forming a concentrated tall of water, charged it with lightening, and then froze it dropping the harglened ball on the ground to shatter, I will also teach you to move things at will, upon finishing this statement Lohi moved out his left hand, thus jerking the massive oak desk that sat to his right between him and Quvedar. Are you prepared to learn? Lohi finished, smiling sinisterly.

Yes instructor, forgiving me for my lack of discipline, Quvedar sat forward and waited for instruction.

Throughout the day Lohi instructed Quvedar how to focus his spiritual energy to manipulate elements. Quvedar learned how to focus his mind to move objects and manipulate others. He learned back combinations for potent toxins and was forced to memorize incantations for more difficult spells. In the late evening offer Quvedar had memorized the last incantation and proved himself to Lohi, his instructor stood. Your instruction is finished, teleport yourself of the palace and you will return to your own time, Lohi spoke his least words to Quvedar before disappearing completely, We will aid you as for as our powers will allow.

Asurath zougare quinatol, Quvedar uttered the magical words as he visualized mount Olympus. He felt the magic flow through him, tingling his entire body as the teleported outside. And as suddenly as the bright light of the snow capped mountains appeared; it faded into darkness.

CHAPTER THREE

THE AXE AND THE BLADE

In the year four hundred seven, twelve year old Hargis of the clan Taull of the northern stone shore of what's now Scotland, left his home and family and made his way to the continent and adventure. Even at this young age Hargis had already breached the six-foot mark and was still growing. His strength reviled his height, but was dwarfed by his temper and the fury of what his rage could be.

Hargis roamed north through Gaul and into the Scandinavian lands and back down into the Prussian territories. His choice of weapon was a great axe with double blades measuring two and a half feet each at their widest points in length and a thick handle that was three feet long. It weighed thirty pounds and would whistle as it was swung and sliced its targets.

For fourteen years, he wandered the continent horning his battle skills, learning the ways of its people. Satisfying his desires, enjoying his life. Then on a foggy June morning his life changes when the band of highwayman he rode with stops a man they should've let pass. Yeu look like ya does well far yeuself stranger. What yeu say bout sharing yeur goud fourtion with us hard working men? Lars Gosddsofft was the leader of this band of cutthroats that came by his position honestly; he killed the previous leader and everyone else that got in his way. And this skinny little man in lavender would be easier to take care of than sneezing, or so he thought.

Lars, get out of my way. You're not even worth the effort it would take to push you aside. The skinny man removed his hood as he stepped towards the would-be robbers. His hair is black in color of the darkest night. On his face he wore a mustache that was connected to a goatee, his skin tone was that of a man from the Mediterranean; lightly toasted. His voice resounded with confidence and was that of a tenor. Which one of you is Hargis of the stone shore?

Yeu don't talk to me men, I do their talking. So hands over yeurs valuables and maybe, just maybe, I's let yeu live another day. The crook smelled like he had never taken a bath in his life and that he slept on a manure pile. It took all the stranger had in him to keep from backing away. So now what yeu got to say?

Bite me, Lars.

With that Lars was struck dumbfounded for a minute. He then raised his arms, and started forward with a growled. The stranger sidestepped the would-be crook and gave him a good kick in the pants; his men laughed at him and taunted him, which only served to further anger him. Lars turns quickly for a man his size and again charged the stranger only to stop short when reaching him. Their leader no longer growling and both men standing right against each other the highwaymen stop their laughter and calls. Lars takes four steps backward to reveal the blood-covered sword the stranger had ran through him. In turning around he tries to flee but only falls to the ground. Dead.

Okay! Let's try this again. Who among you is Hargis of the stone shore? The man leans on the sword as if it was a cane and he was merely waiting to be seated at a restaurant.

I be Hargis of the clan Taull, from the stone shore. Who are you skinny man and are you now our leader or do we kill you for killing Lars? The Pict pushes his way through the other robbers, who had gathered around the two fighters, his axe strapped to his back.

My Lord has named me Gabriel; men have called me by many other names. But my Lord has a mission for you now, and has asked me to deliver to you your orders.

I take orders from no man that has not beaten me in combat! The Pict bellows as he quickly removes his axe from its resting-place.

That's good, but my Lord is no man. He is our living God. With that the highwaymen start to talk among themselves. I know you've heard of him Hargis, men are calling him the God of Abraham, or the Christian God, but I say to you now, all of you, he is the one true God of this world!

And you are here to do his bidding for him. Then you can fight me in his place. The Pict is over a head taller than Gabriel is and almost twice as wide, but the stranger shows no fear. HERE! NOW!

Then so be it, and with that Gabriel's cape flips open and back giving the appearance of wings being folded away until needed again. He then raises his sword swinging it first to his left and over his head crossing in front of him circling the right side of his body to exchange hands and repeats the pattern. The blade is then tossed into the air, spins twice and is caught mid-air above his head where it is positioned for its first strike.

The Pict had seen many a swordsman before, but was still impressed with the grace and speed of his newest opponent. But not to be out done by any man, especially one that orders him about without proving himself fit. So, he spins his axe in his hand making it appear to be a mace. Then passing it to his other hand, he starts to weave the great axe about his body as most men would a much lighter quarter shaft, ending with it flying through the air to be grabbed at the base of the blades and laid to rest at his side ready to taste blood. With a low growl he states that he is ready.

The big robber charges forward bringing his axe in a circler motion behind his back and over his head ready to down into the head of his opponent. Not thinking that his attack could be side stepped. He puts all his force into the killing blow, leaving himself open for a swift kick to the seat of his pants that sends him sailing head over heals and on to his back.

His cohorts laugh as the big Pict tumbles to the ground. This adversary is a wirier one that seeks to play. Giving calls of reassurance with some teasing they cheer on their friend.

Have you had enough yet Pict? Unable to contain the enjoyment Gabriel beams a smile that reaches from ear to ear.

You shall pay for that outlander. The words are more of a growl than speech. Not physically hurt, his pride took a major injury being embarrassed in front of his fellow cutthroats. He brings the axe in slashing motion from right to left hoping to split this troublemaker in two. Leaping backwards and landing on his back Gabriel is able to slide under the blade and position his feet, to again send the Pict flying, this time into a tree.

Quickly getting back on his feet and turn to face his opponent, which was still shaking his head trying to regain his senses and locate his axe. You know man; we don't have to do it this way. God is not one to force Himself upon a person. He wants you to come to him of your own free will. To that speech Gabriel receives back nothing but an even madder Pict growling and charging, blade ready to strike.

This time rage out does brains and fancy moves. The Pict's axe comes around to the stranger with such speed and force that Gabriel's sword is sent flying after barely deflecting the attack. Scrambling to retrieve his own weapon the stranger trips over a rock sending him tumbling down. Hitting the ground he barely misses Hargis’ axe, but as he raises the axe, it clips Gabriel's cloak causing the man to scream in pain.

Cheers ring out from the on-lookers, all of them calling for the stranger's blood.

Aware that he only cut the man's cloak, Hargis is caught off guard by the man's visible pain. Glancing down at the ground he spies three white feathers where the stranger had fallen, What kind of man be ye? Be ye a man at tall?

I never claimed to be a man in the first place. With his sword back within his hand, Gabriel