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Chapter 263: Summerlands
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Warrior of the Way Chapter 1: Reaping the Harvest
Rhychard Bartlett fell against the coarse stucco of the church column, the rough texture ripping into his back through his shirt as he oozed to the ground. Smoke floated through the morning air, carrying with it the scent of sulfur leftover from the burst of demonic power Vargas used against him, red flames of energy that exploded from the demon's fingers. Rhychard suddenly wished he had kept his duster on as the pain screamed in his mind and explosions of white dots burst behind his eyes like fireworks. He barely managed to maintain his grip on the Guardian Sword with the attack. The blade pulsed a violent blue as heat emanated from the bronze weapon. He could feel the power from the sword, but faintly, the voices of past Warriors a low murmur in his head, instead of their consistent howl. His arm hung limp at his side, blood trickling down as his chest suffered from three long claw marks that left his flesh layered open, revealing torn muscle and tissue beneath. His chest heaved with
Warrior of the Way Chapter 2: Reaping the Harvest
The elven hound pressed his massive forehead against Rhychard's shoulder. A tingling sensation coursed through him as he felt Kree's magic knit muscle and tissue back together. Rhychard glanced down as his injuries seemed to shrink back in time, the open wounds finally becoming thin, pinkish lines of new flesh with blood coating the healed wounds the only evidence something had happened. The pain was still a dull ache, but he was no longer in danger.Tryna looked into Rhychard's eyes once Kree finished. "I knew you would be here, at this church, when I felt your pain." There was no accusation in her voice, only sadness. "This is not good, Warrior. This distraction almost killed you."Rhychard didn't answer. There wasn't really anything to say. He came here to remember; he came here, to this church, every day for the past three months because it was as close as he could get to the love he had lost, the love he had lost because of being at the right place at the wrong time. Vargas had be
Warrior of the Way Chapter 3: Reaping the Harvest
Rhychard splashed cold water over his whisker-stubbled face, the chill shocking some life back into his mind. His arm and chest throbbed with pain even though Kree had successfully healed the gouges Vargas left. The skin was still pink, and even the elven hound couldn't take away the scars left behind.Rhychard glanced up into the bathroom mirror, water dripping from his face into the dirty sink below. A hollowness seemed to surround his pine bark-colored eyes, giving him a ghostly appearance. His high cheeks had a thinness to them he hadn't noticed before. He knew he hadn't been eating properly but didn't realize his lack of appetite had taken such a toll on him in so short an amount of time. He reached around and pulled his long, dark hair into a ponytail, tying it with a leather thong. He noticed how his biceps bulged and his chest rippled as he did, more than they had before and a contrast to the gauntness of his face. While he had never been buff, he had carried a few extra pounds
Warrior of the Way Chapter 4: Reaping the Harvest
His friend only lived a couple of subdivisions away as well, so picking him up was never a problem. Within a few minutes of Rhychard leaving Whispering Oaks, Trace's portly five-eleven frame was riding shotgun, and the two men headed to the warehouse district by the interstate to empty a storage unit for old Mrs. Ivy. Trace was also always ready to go because he never dressed up. He never really dressed down, either. His appearance was as shaggy as his walnut-colored hair which hung to his shoulders. He always needed a shave but never had a beard. It was as if his whiskers grew so far and then gave up. He hid his small tortoise-green eyes behind sunglasses, whether or not the sun was out, which always made Rhychard wonder just how bloodshot they really were. The job was simple. Empty the storage unit and dump its contents in the garage of Mrs. Ivy's son, Justin. Trace came across the job because he was friends with Justin Ivy. "Well, not really friends," Trace had said in a weary voic
Warrior of the Way Chapter 5: Reaping the Harvest
It took about an hour to load the truck. The problem with monotonous manual labor is that, while it keeps your body busy, it abandons the mind to venture into dark corners you wish to ignore. Rhychard's mind took him to what Tryna said about the sword's power being hesitant because of his bitterness. The Guardian had drafted him into the god's war, given Rhychard a magical weapon to do battle with, and then punished him because he wasn't all chuckling happy about fighting. Perhaps the races of the Seelie Court felt proud the Guardian chose them as a Warrior, but Rhychard wanted nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, however, he couldn't get out of it. It was a cruel twist of logic thrust upon him, and eventually, it would cost him his life. Of course, without Renny, life was not worth living.By the time they loaded the last box onto the truck, Rhychard's arm was throbbing, and he just wanted the job over. Trace made a couple of cracks about Rhychard getting old and feeble, and by the t
Warrior of the Way Chapter 7: Reaping the Harvest
The air-conditioning in the moving truck finally rebelled against the Florida weather and went on strike. Rhychard coaxed every chill blast out of it he could until only dry air coughed its way out of the vents. Even in May, Florida was too hot to go without at least a breeze, which forced him to ride with the windows down. The air was still sticky with humidity, but at least it circulated. He needed that breeze to help dry him off.He had just finished a three-day move of office equipment for Brewster and Associates Law Firm from their old offices on Starks Avenue to their lush new paradise on Washington Street. It had definitely been a step up, too. They were now in a glass four-story on the corner of Washington and Alamo taking up most of the block with the building and parking area. They had a great view of Downtown on one side and the Indian River on the other, with plenty of fine dining and taverns nearby to schmooze the clients.Rhychard was one of three private movers hired to
Warrior of the Way Chapter 7: Reaping the Harvest
The giant bats he witnessed flying overhead were attacking some man who appeared to be an actor for the downtown theater. The man had even brought one of the swords that seemed to match his Lord of the Rings attire. This, however, was not a show. The blond man knelt on one knee, trying to hold himself steady with a hand on the brick wall. His other hand held the sword he used to keep the creatures at bay. The ground and buildings were splattered with blood. The man's costume hung on him like tattered rags, and bloody gashes covered his flesh. The creatures, whatever they were, determined to make hamburger meat out of their victim. Off to the side, lay the remains of a wolf the size of a bear with a silver coat of fur drenched in its own blood. There was no doubt the animal was dead, chunks of its body ripped out and dripping from the yellow fangs of the beasts clutching the sides of buildings.With the sword, the man sliced at one of the talons of the leathery beasts. As he did, anoth
Warrior of the Way Chapter 8: Reaping the Harvest
Rhychard jumped into the truck, dropped the sword on the seat beside him, and jerked the vehicle into drive. The railroad guards were up. The night was silent except for the shrieks of the gargoyles as they dissected the body of the elf. The cab of the truck glowed a cold blue as the sword still warned of danger. Rhychard hit Washington Street and headed for home."Okay, this is not what I had planned for tonight." He could hear the quake in his voice and stopped talking. He had somehow stepped inside a fantasy novel and needed to change his boxers. Elves were real. Swords glowed. Gargoyles were more than a Disney cartoon. He kept squeezing and rubbing the steering wheel. This was a nightmare come alive, and he would have thought it a dream except for the blood that covered him.Blood. Shit! Rhychard hit the brakes and slowed the truck down to normal speeds. He didn't need a speeding ticket now. There was no way he could explain a sword dripping blood or the blood that smeared his clot
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