by Jack Thomas
Trallis the Warrior
and
The Sword of Unimaginable Power
By Jack Thomas
Copyright 2011 Jack Thomas
~~~~~
Prologue
In a little cottage in a little clearing roughly in the middle of the Glephdronious Woods on the far western side of the land of Glim, there lived a man. But this was no ordinary man—nooooo-ho-ho… This was a man of a great many virtues. He was a man of strength, with more battles under his belt than waistband; a man of courage, who had slain more fearsome beasts than the Fearsomebeastluenza (F2B1) epidemic of 9634276; a man of compassion, who had saved more lives than the invention of the railing; and really, just an all around great guy. And as he rose from his bed on this particular day he could tell that something was different—that indeed this day was as out-of-the-ordinary as he was himself. As he flung open his front door he could sense with his keen intuition (there’s another one; write that down) that this day was not only abnormal, but in fact altogether special; the birds sang of heroism, the air tingled with the vivid aroma of high fantasy, the very earth reeked of EPIC! (The smell of bacon grease from breakfast was also heavily present.) The sheer uniqueness of this day seemed to creep into his every orifice, wriggling down past his many fine organs and tickling that special little part of him (perhaps some sort of gland, or possibly a nerve cluster) that had grown so accustomed to being tickled in such a fashion. After inhaling an inhumanly large gulp of fresh, bacony forest air, he immediately turned and locked his door, hiding his key cleverly under a nearby rock. (He was a man of cunning, too; don’t forget that one). He would not return to his home for an amount of time known only to the wind and Knows When You’re Gonna Return Home McRimpers, over in Fratrat, because for all his virtues and qualities and attributes and whatnot, Trallis was, above all, a man of adventure!
Trallis was…
A warrior!
*****
Trallis the Warrior and the Sword of Unimaginable Power
As was customary for each of Trallis’ adventures, he began by choosing a random direction and walking in it. He started out across his yard, bidding farewell to his little cottage and heading for the thick surrounding trees. He passed the wooden barrier into the world unknown and strolled jollily down the path, watching the little birds dance about the trees and marveling at the natural beauty of the wildflowers that grew rampantly amongst the rocks. He paused for a moment to draw another deep and satisfying breath, silently thanking the land for such a glorious and peaceful day.
Then an enormous troll burst out of the trees and rushed toward Trallis with its arms held high and its mouth hanging open in a bellowing roar.
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” Trallis yelled. His body tried to flee in four directions at once and only managed to stay in place and wiggle awkwardly, and the troll flew at him, kicking up soil and grass and beating at the air savagely with its massive fists, growing exponentially in size as it drew closer and closer. The thudding of its mighty footsteps rang throughout the entire forest and shook every rock and tree in a frantic crescendo, a drumbeat that was a herald—a theme of the coming destruction. One final bowel-loosening roar tore free of the troll’s throat as it closed the distance between them, and Trallis’ knees trembled and his shoulders quaked and his eyes clamped shut and his heart leapt into his throat, beating out its own dirge in time with the stomping troll, thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump!!!
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHdoyouhavethetime?”
Seconds passed without the coming of his demise, and Trallis eased open one eye. The troll was standing over him, thick chords in its neck standing out, its hair matted and tousled.
Trallis looked into the troll’s bulging, bloodshot eyes.
“Uh… Noonish?”
The troll promptly turned and walked away.
“Thank you.”
Trallis watched as it stomped back into the trees, unable to move or even breathe much for several minutes.
*****
When he regained his composure once more, Trallis continued on his way. He walked through the trees for a while until he came upon a small cave in the side of a rocky hill.
“What luck!” he said to himself. “A cave!” (Any adventurer knows that a cave is a very good place to find treasure.)
He squatted down and entered the cave, careful not to bump his head as he did so. The cave was dark and ran deep, but he pressed on. The thought of this cave being home to some sort of monster or savage beast crossed his mind, but these were acceptable risks for an adventurer.
Eventually he saw a light ahead, and after another few moments the tunnel opened up into a cavern large enough for Trallis to stand up. A shaft of light came down through a hole in the ceiling, illuminating an old weathered treasure chest that sat on a mound of rocks in the very middle.
“Fantastic!” Trallis exclaimed, his voice echoing softly against the rock walls. “Caves like these always house some sort of treasure!”
He walked up to the chest and found that it was very fortunately unlocked. A long creak issued from the hinges as he lifted the lid, and he shielded his eyes against the gleaming object resting at the bottom. He reached inside and pulled it out, holding it triumphantly above his head as was customary with the finding of treasure.
The object, it seemed, was a sword. But upon a second glance he discovered with utmost joy that this wasn’t an ordinary—or even an overordinary—sword. It was, in fact, the sword of legend: the Sword of Unimaginable Power! Said to be crafted by the gods themselves (or at least one of the gods, or perhaps commissioned by one; it is not known), the Sword of Unimaginable Power was a glorious piece of workmanship, possessing mystical attributes known to very few, housing within its magically-forged metal a beauty and luminescence said to strike fear into the very hearts of the wicked.
“Wow!” Trallis shouted as he examined the sword in the beam of light from the ceiling. “I just started my adventure no more than twenty minutes ago and I’ve already found perhaps the most treasured and powerful sword in all of existence! And it even comes with a nifty sheath! What a good day!!!”
Absolutely beaming, Trallis strapped it to his back beside his own sword and exited the cave.
In the daylight once more, he continued his trek through the woods, thinking on both his incredible luck and what was turning out to be one fantastic adventure. He wondered how the sword had come to be in such an easily-accessible place. He didn’t quite understand why anyone would ever find themselves wishing to part with it at all… And even if they did, why wouldn’t they at least sell it, or perhaps give it away as a present? It would certainly make a good birthday present, he thought. He wondered for a while and came to no answers, so he decided to take it as a testament to his great luck and drop the subject.
Trallis walked through the woods for another hour or so, a spring in his step and a tune on his lips. He stopped in his tracks when he heard rustling in some nearby bushes.
“Who goes there?” he shouted.
Suddenly, two nasty-looking orcs jumped out in front of him. They snarled and cursed and brandished their crude weapons, readying for a strike.
“Ah, this looks like the perfect opportunity to try out the new sword!” Trallis said. Beside himself with excitement, he reached for the handle on his back. However, before his hand could reach the golden and gloriously shiny shaft, the sword leapt out of its sheath of its own accord, flew through the air toward the two relatively shocked orcs, slayed them both, wiped itself off in the grass, and
returned to its home with a pleasant ringing of its fine metal.
Trallis stood and stared at the slain orcs for many long moments, dumbfounded. Finally, he broke the silence that clung to the forest air.
“Neat!” he said, and continued on his journey.
*****
After a few more hours of walking, Trallis came upon his first town. The village was located in a large forest clearing, the flat meadow peppered with little wooden huts, shanties, shacks, and other forms of small, crude structures as villages are like to have. The crooked, weathered sign that marked the town border said “TROTWORND” in big block letters, which appeared to have been etched by someone’s nose using smashed up berries (but Trallis had never been very good at recognizing different forms of penmanship).
He walked down the road and hailed the first old man he could find.
“Excuse me, old man?”
The man (who was indeed old) was raking dirt. He brought his rake up to his side and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“Yes?”
“Good afternoon, fine sir. Might I ask, what is this town’s… primary draw? Does it have a theme, perchance?” (This is a common question for an adventurer, as most towns, if not all of them, have a “thing,” as it were.)
The old man scratched his chin thoughtfully. Then he scratched the top of his head, then his forehead. Scratched all over his head, really.
“Well, there’s Jimbo’s Muffin Place. Got pretty good muffins there, I guess. Let’s see… Then there’s that old man up the mountain that can awaken the true power of any weapon…”
“Aha!” Trallis exclaimed. The ability to awaken a weapon’s true power? He already had what was potentially one of the most powerful swords in existence; if he could somehow awaken an even deeper power within it, there wouldn’t be one beast in all of Glim that could stand up to him! Not even the Borp Monster!
“Thank you kindly, old man!” he said, and was off.
“If you go, though,” the man called after him, “be sure to get one of the apple crumble!”
*****
The townsfolk directed Trallis to a trail that led up the mountain (designated the “Guy Who Can Awaken the True Power of Any Weapon and Burt Stamper Memorial Hole Community Access Road—Please keep our trails litter-free, paid for by the citizens of Trotwornd,” according to the sign). With a smile he placed his closed fists on his hips boldly, surveyed the trail for a moment longer, and then began the upward trek (a muffin in hand, of course).
It was a relatively small mountain, only nine or ten mountainlengths high, and it made for a pleasant stroll. The trail wound up and up, and all the while Trallis munched on his muffin, humming to himself. When the ground plateaued he found himself looking at a large chasm at the end of the path. Immediately in front of him was a rope bridge leading to the other side, with another bridge running alongside it, starting twenty or thirty feet off to the right. A large man appeared to be standing guard in front of the left bridge.
“Excuse me, good sir,” Trallis offered friendily as he approached. “Might I cross here? I would like the old man on top of the mountain to awaken the true power of my sword.”
The large man didn’t look directly at him—only stared ahead, gripping his spear tightly by his side. His face was stony and unmoving.
“To cross this bridge, you must first pay the toll.” His voice was strong and deep.
“Uh… and what might that be?” Trallis asked.
The man eyed Trallis with a quick glance, then straightened out his gaze once more.
“A muffin.”
Trallis regarded the man curiously. He had just finished his own muffin, and he didn’t fancy the thought of walking all the way back down the mountain to get another one.
“Um… Might you take any other form of payment? Money, perhaps?”
“No.”
Trallis stared at the man for a long moment, then looked over to the other bridge, then back again.
“Okay…” he said. “’Bye.”
Trallis turned and crossed the awkward distance to the far bridge. As he walked across the chasm he peered at the large man expectantly, but he didn’t get so much as a glance in return. Soon he reached the other side and continued on his way.
The ground sloped upward one final time then evened out once and for all. At the very top, surrounded by a few trees and particularly tall rocks, was an eccentric-looking shanty. As was appropriate with most shanties, it looked as though it could fall apart at any moment.
Trallis walked up to the door and knocked. There was a pause, and then the door creaked open. Holding the doorknob was an old man with a long beard.
“Hello, may I help you?” the old man said.
“Greetings,” said Trallis with a little nod. “I am here to have the true power of my sword awakened. I am assuming you are the correct old man to do this?”
The man immediately scrunched one eye into a little slit, jutted out his jaw and hunched over.
“Ahhhhh, yeeeeeesss!” His voice had suddenly become very high and decidedly waily. “You have come to the right place, my lad! Come insiiiiiiide!”
He hobbled back into the house and Trallis followed, shutting the door behind him.
The smell of the house was thick and odd, and the old man quickly shuffled around the room drawing the curtains, bathing the little house in darkness. When it had become sufficiently dim he hobbled over to Trallis, who took the sword off his back. The man immediately yanked it from his grasp and placed it on the large wooden table in the middle of the room. He then began revealing little boxes and doodads from different places around the room, tossing various beads and knickknacks and tidbits and decorations and the like all over the place.
“What’s this for?” Trallis asked, his voice hushed by the suddenly solemn atmosphere.
“Looks nice,” the old man said.
“Oh…”
When the man was finished decorating the room he went to a box and pulled something out. He walked back to Trallis and handed him a hunk of some sort of dark, tough, leathery stuff.
“Eat this,” he grumbled.
“What for?”
“It’s jerky. It tastes good.”
“Oh…”
Trallis took the jerky and began to eat it (and indeed, it did taste good), and when it seemed that the preparation was complete, the man stood and stared at the sword for many long moments. His brow was furrowed more than Trallis even thought possible, and thick veins jutted from his forehead. A single bead of sweat appeared on his temple and Trallis watched as it trickled slowly, slowly down the side of the man’s head. The tension in the room was so thick that Trallis thought he could actually feel it pressing on his skin, and with each passing moment the depth of the silence yawned ever greater.
Finally (and very startlingly to Trallis), the old man clapped his hands together and shouted, “HOO-AH!”
There was a brief moment where Trallis looked from the sword to the man and back to the sword again, but his attention was anchored when the magnificent blade began to glow. Glorious golden light poured from it, filling the room with an enchanting blaze that cast out every shadow and seemed even to darken the slits of daylight around the drawn curtains.
Then the glow faded, and to Trallis’ dawning horror, two eyes very slowly began to open on the grip and a mouth on the cross guard. Soon the eyes were looking sleepily around the room.
Trallis looked troubled.
The old man looked pleased.
The sword yawned.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh, MAN!” it said very loudly. “How long was that nap?” It looked directly at Trallis. “Hey, you’re not Dan! Who are you? Where am I? Why are there beads all over the place? And what’s that smell? Hey, is that jerky? Can I have some?”
Trallis stood speechless for a moment, but sensing an awkwardness that he didn’t fully understand he attempted to speak.
“I’m
… Trallis…”
“Hey, neat!” the sword all but shouted. “Dan has pants that are that color! What other colored pants to you have? Seriously, does anyone smell that?”
Trallis, suddenly and very deeply regretting this decision, had to ask the obvious question.
“Is there any way to… reverse this?” he asked the old man.
“Not that I know of.”
“What day of the week is it?” the sword continued. “I like this ceiling. That smell! Is it… almonds? No, it’s sort of a burny smell, like… burnt almonds? Seriously, what is that?”
The old man turned to Trallis, once again sporting two working eyes, good posture and a friendly smile.
“That’ll be 10 gold.”
*****
Trallis trudged back down the mountain, his high spirits very thoroughly extinguished. The worried and regretful look on his face quickly turned to one of annoyance. The sword sat on his back and did not stop talking for even a moment.
“So anyway, me and Dan did so much together! What are we gonna do, Trallis? Trallis. That’s fun to say… But hard. So anyway, Dan—can I call you Dan?”
“No.”
“Well anyway, Dan, me and Dan did so much together. Like this one time I was like, ‘We should totally get some sushi!” and he was like, ‘No,’ but then he took me over to his friend’s house. OH MY GOSH!” the sword shouted, and Trallis winced against the pain in his ear. “Dan had this one friend who had this dog, and you would be like, ‘Chipchip!’ Chipchip was his name, see—and you would say, “Chipchip! Chipchip, dance! And then he…”
The sword broke out into breathless laughter and Trallis enjoyed the brief moment of silence. It very quickly gave way to real laughter however, which was so loud it once more hurt his ears.
“He would—heeheeheeeeee! …And he would dance! HA HA HA HAAAAAAHHHHH HA HA HA HAAAAAHHHHH!!! You would be like, ‘Chipchip, dance!’ and he would get on his hind legs and start dancing! Ha ha ha ha! Oh my, it was the most hilarious thing, though. We would make him daaaaance and daaaaance… But don’t give that dog sushi, though! One time I gave Chipchip some sushi and I made him dance over and over and over and over again, and—”