The Orb in the Sword: Chatper 5	Copyright 1998
	-------------------------------	By Ben Christie.
					All rights reserved.

	Birds twittered in the branches above. Their chirps
echoed throughout the wooded valley, cries of sparrows
mixed with the calls of robins. The treetops were teeming
with them, not one was empty. Most of the trees were bare
of any branches and leaves until about twelve feet up,
enough sunlight no longer hitting there to support any. The
rain had stopped and the sky cleared, but could barely be
seen from inside the forest walls. The ground was littered
with leaves and pine needles. Any bare earth was soft and
damp.
	Trakt hiked slowly through the trees, his ears on the
alert for any unusual sounds. With the stories he'd heard of
the valley forest, he was sure to keep his guard up. Luckily,
his only encounter with any other beings was a deer
drinking at a stream a while back. As deep as he was in the
forest, it wouldn't be surprising for him to encounter
another. Many people had encountered someone in these
woods. Descriptions of them ranged from stealthy, lizard-
like dwarves similar to the ones which inhabited the Balt
forests to gigantic, clawed ogres. The mix of tales lead to
no solid identity on the beasts, though many of the stories
were told by parties of people who had been drinking during
their journey and likely false. The local taverns were filled
with myths about the valley forest. During King
Cavenmore's later years, he had sent a band of soldiers to
explore the forest and map out a possible route for travelers
to use as oppose to the cliffs. After three months of waiting,
the King gave up hope of the band ever returning. Some
said they had decided to abandon the King's control while
others told the legend of their bodies littering the forest
floor somewhere, more victims of the valley forest beasts.
	The forest was brightening as the sun moved over
top the earth. Trakt halted. Ahead of him was a mighty oak
tree, spruting high into the sky. It was on of the few trees
which was climbable from the forest floor. Nearly the size of
two men, the tree's base was surrounded by little growth
compared to the other trees. Looking up into the branch's of
the oak, Trakt could clearly see the rope hanging from one
of the many arms. On it's end was a sword of tremendous
size. The handle was just small enough to encircle one's
hand around and ended with a strange black ball. It seemed to 
glow even during the daylight, creating an errie haze. The 
guard was nearly a foot and a half in length, and three inches 
in width with a horn curved in towards the sword on either 
side. The mammoth blade stood roughly as tall as Trakt's 
chest and it glimmered in the sunlight breaking through the 
leaves. It looked heavy, but was unusually light, even when 
compared to a normal sized broad sword. Also attached to the 
rope was a small, brown leather pouch.
	Wasting no time, Trakt proceeded to climb the tree.
He'd already mapped out in his mind the course up the tree
when he had first climb it. Many of the branches were dead
and could easily break if he attempt to support his weight on
them.
	Grasping the thick branch to which the rope was
tied, he pulled himself on top and retrieved his pouch from
the rope, checked it's contents, then tied it to his loincloth.
Following that, he hauled up his sword and looked it over.
There was not a scratch on the blade and his face was
mirrored in it's surface. Strange writing was carved into the
base of the blade, but it was foreign to him. Trakt had
wondered before what the writing said.
	Having gathered his equipment together, Trakt
leaned back against the trunk of the oak, still seated on the
branch. His sword lay across his lap, one hand on the hilt,
the other across the blade. He smelt the strong scent of pine
in the air and relaxed.

	The fire had begun to die. Shadows cast from the
flames danced along the hut's walls. A cool breeze whisked
through the window. The rottweiler shivered. He was glad
the nights were getting warmer, but they still lacked the
warmth of the hot summer breeze. Winter had been
especially hard this year. He'd lost half his crop to early frost
and several other farmers near by had died. It was one of
the worst winters he'd ever experienced. Cyrottweil's food
supply had suffered and they had to import food from
Miayt. Forced to find another source of money, Trakt had
taken up a job offered by King Rottweil himself. It had paid
well, far more then he would have earned from his harvest,
but it had involved two month's worth of travel with a small
group of the King's troops. Trakt was glad to have gotten
the monet, though, and he feared that next year things may
not work out so well.
	Standing up, he dipped his hands in the bucket of
water next to the fire and placed the rest of his meal in
another bucket to be thrown out first thing tomorrow.
Afterwards, he dressed his bed for sleeping and was about
to douse the fire when a voice called to him.
	"Open up." The voice bellowed from outside his
door.
	He replied, "Who is it?"
	"The king's men," It said. "Open up."
	The farmer moved to the entrance and unbarred the
it. The door swung into the house. 	In front of him stood
one of the King's Royal guards, dressed in a red loincloth
and carrying a spear marked with the city's crest on the
head. He had a square jaw and a pointed nose at the end of
a short snout. His eyes were a dark green dotted with
brown. The dog had no markings on his chest like all the
guards. This made it hard for people to remember them.
	"Trakt Weilsam?" the guard asked.
	"Yes."
	"Good." The guard smiled at him, his sharp teeth
exposed. "Would you mind stepping out of your house for a
moment? This will only take a second."
	Trakt wondered what this was about. Had his job
for the King not been done to his liking? He exited his hut
and paused as he saw the board figure of two other canines
standing on either side of his door. Another rottweiler and
to the right was a towering dog, the likes her had never seen
before.
	Before Trakt could ask what this visit was about, a
sword butt from one of the dog's struck him across the
back. Trakt flinched at the sudden surge of pain and
dropped down to his knees. One of the dog's laughed.
	Trakt breathed deeply, the wind having been
knocked from his body. He looked up at the guard in front
of him, who was still smiling. Trakt tried to speak, but only
coughed.
	From behind, the other rottweiler picked him up and
held him back. The guard moved forward and looked into
Trakt's eyes. He spit in his face.
	Trakt's eyes narrowed and his lips curled up,
showing his teeth to the predators. Kicking his leg back, he
hit the rottweiler in the groin and was released. He entered
into a sprint, running from them. The guard had drawn a
knife and sliced across the air in front of Trakt and caught
his neck. Blood seeped from the wound and he coughed,
more blood dripping from his mouth. Trakt clutched his
throat. He tried again to speak, to call out for help, but he
couldn't. The warm taste of blood filled his mouth. The
guard pulled Trakt close to him and slammed his knee into
the dog's chest.
	The rottweiler behind him, gripping his crotch,
kicked Trakt's chest, knocking the wind from him again.
	Trakt fell onto his side, coughing and wheezing.
Blood dripped off his lips and speckled the dirt. He looked
up at the dogs huddled around him. He couldn't make out
their faces well in the dark. The only light came from the
doorway of his hut and filled a small portion of the ground
with an orange glow.
	Bending down, the guard stared at Trakt's face. "It's
hopeless, Trakt," he uttered. Behind him stood the other
rottweiler gripping his sword and the tall, robust dog
starring down with baneful eyes. Trakt tried to speak, but
his throat was hoarse and dry. He couldn't make out any
words.
	The guard laughed at the sight of the Trakt
coughing on the ground. "Having trouble?"
	Sweeping his hand along the ground, Trakt grasped
the guard's leg.
	The butt of the guard's knife slammed into his head.
"Easy there, big guy," he said, standing up. The dog looked
at the other two then back at Trakt. "There something you
know that the King doesn't want you to know and we're
here to see that it doesn't leave you lips."
	The rottweiler placed the sword into it's sheath and
unlatched a piece of gray steel from his belt. Trakt, dazed
from the blow, tried to look at the figures above him, but
the image was blurred. He could only see the metal
approaching his face. It was bent and each half had holes
punctured through them. His eyes couldn't keep a lock on
the canines. Trakt could feel the cold steel hitting his mouth
as his vision began deteriorated.
	Something sparkled. It was the necklace around the
rottweiler's neck. Hanging from a gold chain was a strange
eye symbol. It's center was a sapphire. It gleamed in the
light from the fire and among everything else it was the only
thing Trakt could make out before his sight clouded over
and the world went dark.

	Trakt awoke suddenly, covered in a cold sweat. He
coughed and gagged. His hand gripped the sword firmly. He
leaned back against the tree and looked up at the treetops
and the blue sky. Taking deep breaths, he began to feel
relaxed again. He swung his legs over the branch's edge and
looked out at the forest. It was still light and he guessed it
was mid-afternoon. Removing a strap from his pouch, he
fastened it around his chest and slide the mighty sword
down his back where the guard caught the strap and held
fast. Trakt was about to descend the tree when he noticed
something.
	The birds had stopped their singing. The valley
forest was frozen in silence.
	Trakt had also frozen in the tree. His eye scanned
the bushes and trees around him for any signs of movement.
He sniffed the air, but any smells were overpowered by the
strong pine scent. He knew there was something strange
about the forest around him.
	A cold wind passed through the trees, rustling the
leaves.
	Crack!
	Trakt's ears stood on end. He listened carefully.
	The forest was quiet.
	Slowly moving his paw down his body, he gripped
his knife and slide it out.
	Like a conductor starting his orchestra, one bird
chirped and the entire forest sprang back to life. Trakt
paused a moment, then continued his descent of the oak
tree. Coming to stand on the forest floor, he Checked to
insure he had everything: sword, pouch and curved blade;
then went on his way through the woods towards the edge
of the mountains.