The Sword That Spoke E-Book

Robert Jeschonek

• Herausgeber: Pie Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Once upon a time, the sword Tizona helps the warrior knight El Cid cut a swath through the Moors invading Spain. But El Cid doesn't know the great sword's secret: that it has a mind of its own and talks only to his beautiful wife, Jimena. Together, Tizona and Jimena help El Cid wage his battles, until a demon of war takes possession of his body and soul. When woman and blade unite, can they free the legendary hero from the demon's wicked clutches? Or will the shadow of the horrors of war overcome all of them? Perhaps, in the sword's cryptic prophecy, lies a secret that will turn the tables of history, love, and death. Don't miss this edgy, exciting, and surprising fantasy tale by award-winning storyteller Robert Jeschonek, a master of unique and unexpected fantasy that really packs a punch.

Leseprobe

The Sword That Spoke

A FANTASY TALE

ROBERT JESCHONEK

Contents

Also by Robert Jeschonek

THE SWORD THAT SPOKE

About the Author

Special Preview: Heaven Bent

THE SWORD THAT SPOKE

Copyright © 2023 by Robert Jeschonek

http://bobscribe.com/

Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by Ben Baldwin

www.benbaldwin.co.uk

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved by the author.

Published by Blastoff Books

An Imprint of Pie Press

411 Chancellor Street

Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904

www.piepresspublishing.com

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THE SWORD THAT SPOKE

In those days, before the death of my husband, the sword did not say much. Sometimes, I could not quite make out what it said—but I could not ask anyone else if they'd heard it.

Because Tizona, the sword of El Cid, spoke only to me.

As far as I know, Tizona never said a single word to anyone else, even its master, my husband Rodrigo—the great El Cid Campeador. It struck me funny sometimes, that the sword of such a warrior, a powerful man who had battled the mightiest Moors, would talk to me, but not him.

It struck Rodrigo even funnier, of course, when he caught me talking to Tizona. He teased me, asking if I loved the sword more than I loved him.

And in this, though none of us knew it at the time, Rodrigo predicted the future.

* * *

I remember very clearly the first words Tizona ever said to me. They came after the witch, the bruja, cast her spell.

"You and I, Jimena," said Tizona, its voice high and sweet as the tinkling of a bell. "We will turn the tables."

Stunned, I looked all around for the source of the voice, unable to believe it had come from the sword. All I saw were the four barren walls of the bruja's decrepit hut, where I'd come for help a mere month after my wedding day.

"It is I. Tizona." The voice tinkled again, drawing my eyes to the gleaming sword on the table. "The bruja tricks you."

"How?" I said.

"What was that?" The bruja stood and stared less than an arm's length away, on the other side of the table.

Tizona did not move the slightest bit as the tiny voice emanated from its shining blade. "You traded ten years of your life for a spell of protection for your new husband. My master, El Cid."

"Yes." I stared at the palm of my left hand, where the witch had cut a bloody pentagram framing a star—the marks of magic.

The bruja was getting angry. "Who are you talking to?"

"She thinks she cheated you with a cut-rate spell," said Tizona. "She thinks it will provide no protection."

Now it was my turn to be angry. I glared at the bruja, and she backed away scowling.

"But we will turn the tables," said Tizona. "I was enchanted long before this, by a magician far greater than she. I shall offer the protection she denies."

"Which means what?" I said.

"So long as you and I are both faithful to El Cid," said Tizona, "I will raise him up if he falls dead."

"Really?" I said.

"Once," said Tizona. "I can do it only once."

* * *

My husband, Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, was a magnificent soldier, a knight beyond compare. The Christians called him El Campeador, the champion. The Moors who ruled so much of our land called him sayyid, meaning "lord"...which became "El Cid."

He fought the Moors in battle after battle throughout Spain, striking fear in their hearts...and inspiring admiration in the hearts of his own people. He was a living legend, a true hero and god among men.

And his glamour was not lost on me. I was starstruck from the first time I gazed into his dark, flashing eyes. The stories of his exploits thrilled me...no less so when I learned he would take me as his bride.

Everything changed after that, though. I made a terrible mistake.

I fell in love with him.

And with love came worry. Every time he rode off into battle, I could hardly stand it. Thinking he might never return.

Which is why I sold ten years of my life to a bruja to bewitch his beloved Tizona.

* * *

In the years that followed, only one thing never changed between Rodrigo and me. My love for him never wavered. It remained steadfast as the love of Christ for mankind. As Mount Penyagolosa towering at our backs.

That does not mean I loved the creature who came to live inside Rodrigo, however. The thing I decided I had to kill.

* * *

I'll never forget the first time I saw it.

Rodrigo and I were walking out of the cathedral in Castile after mass. This was in the days when he was still in favor with my cousin, King Alfonso.

It was a beautiful day, all blue sky and sunshine and warm breezes. Rodrigo and I walked arm in arm, and he leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

"What shall we do with the afternoon, Jimena?" said Rodrigo.

I smiled and blushed. We both already knew what we would do when we got home. "Clean the castle?" It was our own little joke. Our secret code.

Rodrigo leaned close, his crooked smile full upon me. "Only if you do your share. There is much cleaning to be done."

I laughed and leaned my head on his shoulder.

And that was when the assassin leaped out of the shadows ahead of us.

Black robes whipping, the Moor hurtled toward us, screaming and drawing a sword from the scabbard at his hip.

Without hesitation, Rodrigo shoved me back and charged forward. Arms and legs pumping, he leaped into action against the Moor.

It was the first time I'd seen him in battle—and he was magnificent. His body sprang and twisted, dodging the Moor's sword-strokes with perfect timing and agility. He pelted the Moor with one fierce blow after another, knocking the sword from his hands and then knocking him to the ground. Without a weapon that wasn't part of his body, Rodrigo battered and broke the assassin, pounding him flat in the street.

And then he killed him.

It happened so fast, I hardly noticed at first that he'd done it. Rodrigo took the Moor's head in his hands and suddenly twisted it hard to one side. When he dropped it, the Moor lay motionless under the sun, lacking even the rise and fall of breath passing in and out of his chest.

That was when I saw it for the first time. The thing inside my husband.

"All right?" Rodrigo said it as he rose from the limp body of the Moor in the street.

My nod was a lie. As Rodrigo approached me, I had to fight the urge to back away.

Rodrigo's eyes were glowing red, like the coals of a fire. His body was covered in fine, emerald scales, like the skin of a snake. A forked tongue flickered from between his scaly lips, red as a ribbon fluttering in the breeze.