A Dagger In The Mud

• Sam Gibbard, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

Ralph looked over his shoulder as he trudged through the thick snow of the forest, he walked jovially at first, almost with a spring in his step, but then the gravity of the situation sank in, and his almost skipping pace descended into a slow trudge as he pondered what he had just done, and wondered just how much trouble he was in, and if he had been paid enough, after all, he had just assassinated the king.
Ralph examined his weapon as he prepared to throw it in the shallow hole he had dug to hide it. It was an exquisite blade really, a dagger, slightly curved yet perfectly balanced, with gold inlaid into the grip and hilt, it was covered in jewels, so many in fact that Ralph had to cover them with mud to stop it shining in the sun. It was obviously crafted by someone who was a master at their field, and from his trained eye, he could tell it had been made for one purpose.
As he threw it into the hole it moved strangely, landing vertically, the blade sinking fully into the ground, with only the hilt sticking out. Then, to Ralphs surprise the beautiful, purple sapphire on the pommel blinked, like an eye, and he ran, ran for his life, and even retired and joined a monastery, repenting his ways, for magic was an evil even he couldn’t compare to.
100 Years Later
A lone boy stumbled through the forest, trudging ruefully through thick layers of snow, his unprotected feet being cut to shreds. He thought about what he had run away from, abusive parents, a life of poverty, and then he thought of what he was heading to, nothing, nobody, just nothing.
All of a sudden, a cloud moves, and a thin ray of light shines down onto one spot, intrigued, the boy dug around in the place when his hand hit something very cold, and hard. He grasped it, ripped it out of the snow, and a strange feeling overcame him, as if he was thinking someone else’s thoughts.
“You there!”, shouted a voice in his head, “I demand that you help me, for I am the king”. The boy was so used to taking orders that this didn’t make any difference to him. “What’s up”? the boy asked, seemingly to thin air. “That sword you just ripped out of the ground, I am imprisoned in the crystal in the pommel, please boy, smash it, and I shall be free to join my family in the afterlife. The boy thought, hell, why not, even without that jewel it’s still probably worth a lot, and then without a moments hesitation smashed the expensive jewel against a large, pointy rock. He heard a quiet ‘Thank you’ as the priceless jewel split. And the boy kept the dagger, sold it, and started a new life for himself, never forgetting that experience in the woods, that one day that changed his life forever.