Ba.s.sORINE is still trying to find Lasidious. The others on Ancients Sovereign are growing tired of listening to the G.o.d of War shout.

SHALEE is on her way to the local School of Magical Studies. She is scheduled to start training with her new staff.

SAM & MOSLEY are waiting for Sam's teacher at the local School of Weaponry.

Thank you for reading this edition of the Grayham Inquirer

CHAPTER 10.

The Training Blues -or- Should I Say, Bruises?

SHALEE LEFT THE INN smiling about Sam's advance as she searched for the School of Magical Studies. She admired the simple touches of the village. Though the architecture was not anything to write home about, it felt peaceful. Simple things were her pa.s.sion anyway, and although the buildings could use some attention to their design, she saw many areas that displayed intricate detail.

Everywhere she turned, the pride of the village people was evident-a sign perfectly painted, carefully placed stones that formed the mouth of a well, cobblestone walkways that ran from the street to each store front and stoop. The roofs were made of bundled straw, and they were tightly bound to allow the rain to run off quickly.

As she walked through the streets, she came across a young boy who appeared to be no more than 11 seasons. He had in his hand a sharpened pencil of some sort, but it was nothing like she had ever seen. Also, on top of an old, smoothed-over piece of wood, a good-sized piece of parchment had been centered. The boy was sitting on a bucket. He was facing a group of trees that grew a fruit resembling peaches.

Shalee's curiosity got the best of her. She leaned over the young man's shoulder and found herself being led by the arm. The boy guided her to the front of the trees where she was left to pose in front of them.

"Please stay still for a moment, my lady," the boy said, holding up his hands as if to ensure she would stay in the desired position. "You'll be my focus. This will be far better than drawing boring, old trees."

"But I don't have the time, I mean ... the moments. I'm fixin' to go someplace. What's your name, little man?"

"My name is Trace. Please don't go. I promise to capture your beauty."

Shalee had to smile. He was an adorable child. "Do you have a last name, Trace?"

"Chaslend, my lady." The boy grinned.

Trace's cute, chubby, freckled face and red hair made Shalee melt. How could she possibly say no to such an innocent request? "Well, how darling are you. As long as you promise to get my good side, I'll stay."

"That's easy. You don't have a bad side," the boy said through a gap-toothed smile.

"Now, now, now ... you already know how to make a lady blush. You're too young to know how to schmooze a woman."

"What does 'schmooze' mean? You talk funny. What makes you sound like that?"

"Don't you worry yourself about that. You just go on ahead and draw up your little picture. But hurry. I need to get moving."

"Yes, my lady."

A while later the boy turned the picture around.

"What do you think?"

Shalee gasped and thought, Maybe Ba.s.sorine's fashion sense isn't so bad after all. "Trace, it's beautiful. I don't think I've ever met a young man with your talent. I'll remember you until the day I die. You've filled my heart with joy, Mr. Chaslend.

"I'm glad you like it, funny lady, but I better go before my mother gets upset. I'm causing her to be late. Bye!"

"Bye, Trace." She watched him run away.

When Shalee found the School of Magical Studies, she stood outside for many moments before she walked in. She was nervous, almost to the point of making herself sick. It took everything she had to keep from turning around and going back to the inn. C'mon Shalee. Stop being such a chicken, she thought. You don't even know what to expect.

The front part of the school was a store. The walls to either side had shelves lined with many things, both creature and plant-oriented. The jars were labeled: Baby Bat Wings, Spider Legs, Mandrake Root, Dragon Scales, Snake Skin, and many other items she had never heard of. She guessed she had an idea what they were used for. One of her favorite TV shows back on Earth was her only frame of reference. The show was about three witches who fought demons in an effort to rid their city of evil. One of the witches had an incredible sense of fashion, but they all used ingredients such as these to make their potions work.

She was not in the store long before an elderly woman, with beautiful, gray hair and soft features, walked into the room holding a staff. The woman's outfit did not accentuate the curves of her body at all. Shalee thought, Oh, my goodness-gracious, I need to call the Fashion Police. If I'm gonna train with this woman, she's got to be fixed. It would be a shame to allow her to squander her beauty by wearing horrid fabrics. Now ... how do I tell her? How do women on Grayham handle tragedy?

The woman's smile was larger than life when she saw Shalee. She rushed across the room. "You're my new student, Child!" She clapped her hands, and then she reached out to take hold of Shalee's arm. "Oh, thank the G.o.ds the Peak has arrived. I've been expecting you for many, many seasons, and I've been looking forward to your arrival. My name is Helga Kolinsky."

"h.e.l.lo ... I think. Ummm ... my name is Shalee," she responded. "You say you've been expecting me? I don't see how. I didn't tell anyone that I was coming."

Helga Kolinsky "No, no, no, Child. It's not like that. I have dreamt for most of my life that you'd be coming to study with me. I've prepared for this Peak, and I've longed for it since the celebration of my eighth winter season. I have so much to teach you."

Needless to say, Shalee was unnerved by the woman's confession-so much so that she turned to rush out of the store. But in her haste, she noticed the door was not getting closer. Looking down, Shalee was shocked to see that her feet were not touching the floor. She was frantically moving her legs, but she was not getting anywhere.

Helga laughed as she circled the suspended Shalee. "Oh, Child. I have known you were going to try that since I was a young girl. I was prepared to foil for your escape."

Shalee went from surprised to angry. "You better put me down, or I'll-"

"You'll what, Child?" Helga responded with a soft voice. "You won't do anything until I let you down, and I'm not going to that until you calm yourself."

Shalee thrashed about. "I said, let me down, doggone it!"

Helga remained patient and continued to speak in a soft voice. "If you will just think for a moment, Child, you'll realize that we've spoken before. You know who I am. Concentrate. Think of our spiritual visits. They've prepared us for this Peak."

Shalee struggled to the point of exhaustion before she gave up and relaxed. She took a deep breath and then thought back to her dreams. To her surprise, she remembered Helga's face. This woman had been in a number of her dreams, and she remembered speaking with her. In fact, Helga was one of the few beings that had given her a peaceful feeling. Sure enough, the way she had dressed in her dreams was almost as bad as real life, but at least her visions of Helga's attire had been a bit more fashionable. Her outfits were nowhere close to the tragic mess she had on now. The rest of her nightmares had been of creatures, wars and angels who were fighting for her affection.

Shalee relented. "I do remember you. I don't know how it's possible, but I know you. Can you please let me down now? I'm ready to listen."

Helga waved her hand, spoke a few words that Shalee did not understand, and then Shalee drifted to the floor. "Oh, Child ... now that we have that bit of awkwardness out of the way, perhaps we could work on something a bit more constructive."

Shalee shrugged. "Okay. Why not? I brought coin for the lessons anyway, so we might as well."

Helga smiled and then moved beyond a large bear rug that hung across an opening which led to a room behind the store. She shouted loud enough that her voice could be heard through the rug. "Your coin is not necessary here, Child! You have much to learn, and you'll need to pay attention, not coin. Bring your staff with you, and we'll get started."

Shalee was cautious as she moved beyond the rug. The room was large and s.p.a.cious. Thick pillows, made of leather, had been stuffed with straw, and they were being used to line the walls. Even the beams in the middle of the room and on the ceiling had been covered. The floor had a different look. Soft mattresses had been placed side-by-side and covered its surface. Shalee grinned. The only thing missing is some gymnastic equipment, she thought.

"This is where your training will begin, Child," Helga said with beaming eyes. "Never mind the decor, it tends to come in handy with a new sorceress."

Shalee looked puzzled. "I don't know that I like the idea of being called a sorceress."

Helga's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Shalee had to search for a response. "I guess it just sounds wicked. Don't you think?"

Helga shook her head. "It's just a name, Child. What else would you call yourself?"

"I don't know... Just not that."

Helga motioned for Shalee to join her at the center of the room. "You can call yourself whatever you like. I, however, will call you my sorceress-in-training. You, like any other being on this world, have the right to do whatever you want. But I would guess you're curious about what your staff does, are you not?"

Shalee nodded and then presented her staff to Helga. "So what do I do with this thing? It didn't come with an owner's manual."

An odd look appeared on Helga's face. "Owner's manual, Child. Whatever do you mean?"

"Ahh, nothing. So what do I do?"

Helga laid the staff on one of the mattresses. "First, you must name it, then you must quiet your mind and learn to speak with it. You must learn to feel its power and allow it to flow through you. This can be the hardest part of training for a new sorceress."

Helga motioned for Shalee to take a seat on the mattress next to the staff. "I'm going to leave and give you some quiet moments to work on this communication. Some women find this experience to pleasurable once they understand what to do."

Shalee placed a hand to her chin. "So ... all you want me to do is name it and figure out how to talk to it? Sounds easy enough."

Helga smiled. "Sounding easy and being easy are two different things. There's one piece of advice I must give you before I go. Make sure you name your staff something simple ... a word with no more than one or two syllables, Child. This is important. One or two syllables only. Don't forget."

Shalee watched as Helga left the room. "Well this is weird," she chuckled. "I've never talked to a petrified stick before."

Shalee studied the room, taking note of every detail. I feel like I've been here before, she thought. I know this place. I've seen it in my dreams.

Shalee turned her attention to the staff and nudged it with her foot. "Shall we have a ourselves a conversation?" she asked as she leaned forward to pick it up. "I can't believe I'm talking to a piece of wood. Huh, first things first. I'm supposed to name you. What's a fabulous one or two syllable name that tickles me pink?"

Shalee thought for a bit and then smiled as she remembered a name that made her feel good inside. She would steal the name of a magical item that she had seen in a movie. The name rolled off her tongue every time she said it. It was the name she had given her favorite coffee cup. No one was here from Earth to object, so why not abscond with it for her own use?

"I think I'll call you Precious. I like that. How does Precious sound to you, Precious?" She slapped the top of the staff with the palm of her hand and sa.s.sily said, "High-five."

Once the staff's name had been uttered, Shalee found new admiration for it. "So ... how do I feel your power, Precious?" She giggled at the thought of talking to the stick.

Shalee spent the next considerable amount of moments staring at the staff, waiting for something to happen. She concentrated and tried to feel something-anything. When nothing happened, she fell back onto the mattress, set the staff beside her and then placed her hand on top of it in hopes that her touch would break the ice. All she wanted was the smallest sign or hint that she was doing something right. At one point, she became frustrated enough to sit up and play peek-a-boo with the staff.

Now, fellow soul ... can you imagine a grown woman sitting in a room all alone, covering her face, and then yelling "peek-a-boo" at a large, petrified stick as she peeled her hands away from her eyes? I find Shalee's playfulness amusing. But enough about how I feel. Allow me to get back to the story. It's about to get interesting.

Shalee was sure that anyone seeing her display of idiocy would have put her in a padded room and thrown away the key. She had to laugh-she was already in a padded room. The only thing she needed now was a straight jacket. But it better have lace, she thought.

It was not much longer before Shalee took her hand off the staff and gave up. She was tired, so she closed her eyes to get some rest. As soon as her mind quieted, that was all it took for the staff to communicate. It was gentle at first, but the sensation grew as it sent waves of energy coursing through her body. The feeling was awesome.

Shalee sat up. "Lordy, Precious, that was amazing. I want more of that. High-five, little darling." She slapped the b.u.t.t end of the staff again.

After placing the staff back on the mattress, she flopped onto her back and concentrated, but nothing happened. Now she was more frustrated than before since she knew what she was missing. What am I doing wrong? She thought as she took a deep breath. Alrighty ... let me think. What was I doing when I felt the tingle?

Shalee pondered for many moments before she finally figured it out. I was doing nothing. I was just lying here. That's it, just lying here feeling relaxed. My mind wasn't all boggled up.

Again, she closed her eyes and cleared her mind. A few moments later, the staff sent another wave of its power through her, but now it was a much stronger wave. Her whole body filled with warmth, and the sensation caused her to tingle in places she did not know she could tingle. There was nothing else she could recall that ever made her feel like this. Again, she sat up and looked at the staff. After a long series of moments filled with admiration, she spoke.

"That's better than ... oh, my," she giggled. "You can do that to me anytime. Let's try that again. Okay, Precious? And I do mean, you're precious. My goodness-gracious, I couldn't have named you better if I would've thought forever. You just keep on making me feel like that, and I'll never leave this room."

Shalee rolled back onto the mattress. She could not stop smiling and talking to her wooden friend as she rolled about. Now, she wanted the staff to make her feel as good as it possibly could, for as long as she could keep her mind silent. Go with it, Shalee. Don't worry about anything. When she managed to do so, the staff sent more of its energy through her.

Shalee absorbed the warmth. Every hair stood on end as the intensity built. Large tears of joy rolled down her cheeks as her hands grabbed hold of the mattress. This was the most incredible experience of her life. And before she had the moments to think, an intense rush, far beyond anything she had ever experienced, consumed her being. Every muscle tightened as she exhaled with a deep sense of satisfaction. The sensation seemed to last forever, and after a long series of moments, her muscles relaxed. Exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.

Sam's Training Begins After eating breakfast, Mosley and Sam left the inn and met up with a weapons instructor named Barthom Jonas. Barthom was the proprietor of the School of Weaponry, and everyone in the village called him BJ.

BJ was a strong man, despite being 61 summer seasons. He was in excellent shape, and he had acquired salt and pepper hair before turning 20. Many enemies had fallen victim to his blade because they a.s.sumed he was weaker and older than he was. He wore leather pants and boots, and his shirt was made of a white fabric that hung relaxed beneath an open vest.

As they hiked to a field that was on a hilltop outside the village, Sam examined his sword. He remembered Ba.s.sorine's words when the G.o.d had handed him the blade at the temple."This is the Sword of Truth and Might. It is one of a kind. The sword possesses the ability to search for truth when used upon your enemies. Place the blade on your foe's shoulder, ask it for the answer you seek, and it will be given unto you."

Sam also remembered Ba.s.sorine saying, "...Just because you possess the sword, doesn't mean you have the ability to wield it."

Sam spun the blade in his hand and smirked as he mumbled, "Ba.s.sorine said I also have much to learn, and that I wouldn't want you failing me in battle." He rolled his eyes. How ridiculous of him to say that. Who does he think I am ... an idiot? I know I don't know how to wield a sword.

Now, fellow soul ... do you remember me telling you about how Sam often failed to show his intelligence? Well, you're about to get an example of how overconfident and stupid the genius could be.

Sam did not know what the G.o.d meant when Ba.s.sorine said, "...Just because you possess the sword, doesn't mean you have the ability to wield it."

How ridiculous, Sam thought as he moved the blade around in front of him. It can't be any harder than the fights I had back home. He was surprised at how light the weapon felt. He had never spent his moments around swords, but the blade was appealing, and the markings on the hilt were mysterious. "Hey, Mosley, do you know what these markings mean?"

"I'm sorry, Sam, I don't."

"Why are you sorry?" Sam retorted. "I didn't expect you to know. I was just hoping you did."

BJ replied, "Perhaps you're not worthy of knowing such things, son. You're not a warrior yet."

"Yeah, sure! What was I thinking?" Sam scoffed. "Only a warrior can walk into a library and look up a bunch of symbols. I should have known I wasn't qualified to read because I haven't sliced anybody open yet." Sam lifted the blade in front of his face and frowned. "All King Arthur had to do was pull his sword from the stone and his weapon worked from day one. Why would this blade be any different?"

BJ shook his head. "Perhaps this king was not as ignorant as you are."

The wolf looked up from a rock he was sniffing next to the path. As he lifted his leg, he began to pee and questioned, "Who's this King Arthur? What pack does he lead?"

Sam smiled, realizing his point had fallen on uninformed ears. "Oh, never mind. Mark your rock."

When they reached the field, BJ motioned for Mosley to step aside. "Sam, show me your blade and reveal its name. A man cannot fight with a sword he hasn't named. That would be a dishonor, not only to the sword, but its maker."

Sam looked at BJ, then at his sword. "I haven't named it yet. I haven't put any thought into it. What do you think I should name it?"

"You're asking me?" BJ grumbled. "Only you can answer that question, son. The naming of a sword must not be trivialized. This is a bond that must be forged between warrior and steel."

Sam looked at the blade and thought, That's ridiculous. This guy's been watching too much TV. After a quick smirk, he responded. "Okay, okay. Ba.s.sorine said it was a Sword of Truth and Might. So I guess-"

BJ dropped to one knee and bowed.

Sam lowered the blade to his side. "What are you doing?"

"Son, you don't realize what you have in your possession," BJ responded, keeping his head lowered in the sword's presence. "I did not realize you possessed a blessed blade. This is, indeed, a great honor. A weapon of that nature could command the Ultimate Power. One does not simply use a sword like this. A man must seek permission from the blade to command it. As your teacher, I must also seek the blade's blessing before I can instruct you with it. Please, son, I beg you. Bow and ask for forgiveness. Permission must be acquired."