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    Obsidian Fire: The Cave of the Sleeping Sword
    Obsidian Fire: The Cave of the Sleeping Sword
    Obsidian Fire: The Cave of the Sleeping Sword
    Ebook98 pages1 hour

    Obsidian Fire: The Cave of the Sleeping Sword

    By Dwayne R. James

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    About this ebook

    “The Cave of the Sleeping Sword” is the first part of the twelve-part “Obsidian Fire” serial, a superhero style adventure that is heavily inspired (admittedly on the verge of plagiarism at times) by the Arthurian legend of the Sword in the Stone.
    The saga is told almost entirely from the point of view of a reluctant sidekick, who must watch as somebody else gets thrust into the role of the hero. Together, the two join forces with the members of an ancient Brotherhood to battle a threat the likes of which the world hasn’t seen since medieval times.

    This first episode introduces us to a world where the mystical Flaming Sword, having last chosen a worthy Knight to wield it in the 1930s, has inspired generations of regular folk to stand up against injustice, leading to the modern day legalization of vigilantes like Mark Allen.

    When a long-forgotten prophecy comes to light foretelling that the Flaming Sword is finally about to select another Knight, Mark decides to travel to Scotland to fulfill what he believes to be his lifelong destiny. Although Mark is clearly the most qualified for this awesome responsibility, the Sword has other ideas, and chooses instead the last person anyone would ever expect to play the hero.

    As Mark struggles to come to grips with the consequences of the Sword’s choice, he quickly learns that nothing in his new life is ever as it seems.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDwayne R. James
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    ISBN9781928015000
    Obsidian Fire: The Cave of the Sleeping Sword
    Author

    Dwayne R. James

    Writer and watercolour artist Dwayne James lives outside of Lakefield, Ontario where he writes and paints as often as he can, that is when he's not spending time with his very forgiving family.Dwayne studied archaeology in University, and as a result learned how to write creatively. "The most important skill I learned in University," he says, "was the ability to pretentiously write about myself in the third person."With no formal art training, Dwayne has always preferred the self-guided, experimental approach. In fact, he taught himself how to illustrate archaeological artifacts while completing his Master's degree at Trent University. Said his thesis supervisor at the time: "There might not be much in the way of coherent theoretical content in Dwayne's thesis, but damn, it looks pretty!"After spending close to a decade as a technical communicator at IBM, Dwayne opted to look at their Jan 2009 decision to downsize him as an opportunity to become a stay-at-home Dad for his young twins, and pursue his painting and creative writing whenever they allow him to do so. It is a decision that continues to make him giggle with wild abandon to this very day.

    Read more from Dwayne R. James

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      Book preview

      Obsidian Fire - Dwayne R. James

      OBSIDIAN FIRE

      BOOK ONE:

      THE CAVE

      of the

      SLEEPING SWORD

      by

      DWAYNE R. JAMES

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2013 by Dwayne R. James

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      The Obsidian Fire Chronicles

      A twelve-part serial available from www.obsidianfire.ca

      Available Now

      The Cave of the Sleeping Sword

      Revelations of a Secret Brotherhood

      Coming Soon

      The Dawn of the Flaming Knight

      Knight Fall

      Coming Soon-ish

      Dragon Fyre

      Assault on Castle Redstone

      The Obsidian Knight Rises

      Inside the Mind of a Madman

      A Brotherhood Torn Apart

      The Man with the Obsidian Heart

      Proterion’s Dream

      The Final Battle

      Also by DWAYNE R. JAMES:

      Gingers and Wry

      www.gingersandwry.com

      Princess Etheria and the Battling Bucks

      www.princessetheria.com

      Disclaimer

      This book has been written with a young adult audience in mind and, as such, it contains some of the language that these young adults so love to use. Most of it is fairly mild, but parents should still keep this in mind so that, if you’re reading it to young children, you’re ready with an appropriate substitute word. Personally, I recommend Flickerdoodle because who could possibly be offended by being told to Flickerdoodle themselves?

      Dedication

      For Rick.

      Although I always treated him like my sidekick,

      it was really always the other way around.

      Table of Contents

      Prelude

      Chapter 1 - The Cave

      Chapter 2 - The Obsidian Brotherhood

      Chapter 3 - Glasgow Green

      Also by Dwayne R. James

      About the Author

      PRELUDE

      June 1933, a tiny island somewhere off the coast of Scotland

      The old man stood at the tower window and stared out across the sea at the setting sun. The cold wind stung his cheeks, and waves beat so violently against the castle wall below, that he could taste their salty spray even at this height.

      Reluctantly, he closed the window.

      Maybe it was his age; maybe it was the circumstances, but, now more than ever before, he found himself missing the calmer waters of the calderas, and the warm Aegean breezes of his youth. Behind him, a wireless radio sparked and hissed while a newsman's voice fought through the static to be understood.

      ... been more than two months since the Flaming Knight was last seen in action, spoke a voice in a crisp British accent. This is the longest that the Knight has been out of sight since he first appeared dramatically some five years ago wielding his mysterious fiery red Sword.

      The old man turned away from the window, walked to the middle of the room, and took a seat behind a large, ornately carved oak desk. Resting on the blotter in front of him was a small Sword—no bigger than a large dagger—its blade like carved red glass, and its hilt burnished gold with a dull orange stone embedded in the pommel. The old man pulled at his thick grey beard thoughtfully as he stared at the dagger in front of him.

      There was a time, the newsman continued, when the Flaming Knight seemed to be everywhere at once, so the fact that he's disappeared completely is all the more unusual. There are still so many unanswered questions about his origins, as well as the nature of his Sword's apparent magical properties, although there are critics who suggest that the Knight was little more than a skilled illusionist practiced in the art of mass hypnosis. For now, the search continues, and we will keep you informed should anything change. In other news, in Germany today...

      Turn it off Fitch, the old man whispered brusquely, his voice sounding weary, as if it hadn't been used in several decades.

      A second man, standing by the polished wood cabinet that housed the wireless, obediently reached down and twisted a dial to shut it off. As he turned to face the old man behind the desk, he spoke up tentatively. We're going to have to go public Grand Master, he offered kindly as he pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. Another Flaming Knight will needs be found.

      The Grand Master exhaled heavily as he picked up the red-bladed dagger. It's not up to us, he answered finally. If I've learned anything in my years guarding this Sword, it's that somebody worthy will appear—eventually—but not until the time is right. Not until the need is great.

      "But the need is great, the other man countered. Gilmat failed, Arakanean is still out there..."

      I know! interrupted the Grand Master, a little more forcefully than he had intended. He composed himself before continuing more quietly, It was the last thing that... He stopped, as if he couldn't say the Knight's name, almost as if he'd momentarily forgotten what it was. He started again. It was the last thing that Gilmat said to me.

      Well, not the last thing, he thought. There was more, and I will continue to ponder the significance—as well as the oddity—of it later. Alone.

      The old man stood up, giving strength to his voice, and adding weight to his next words. And if this is the case—if Arakanean is indeed alive—then this is our call to action, and we must do all that we can to make the brotherhood stronger, considering the power that he now commands. The old man walked out in front of his desk as he spoke. But, as for choosing another Sword bearer, I will say it again: it's not up to us. He was now holding the hilt of the tiny Sword out in front of him, so that its finely knapped blade was pointing up at the ceiling. He stared at it intently as if willing it to come to life. Though oft is the time, I've wished that it was.

      Finally, he lowered the dagger, and dismissed his assistant by saying, I wish to go alone, and I will need time to gather my thoughts first.

      The bespectacled man nodded his head simply, and said, As you wish Grand Master, before withdrawing into a side chamber as quickly as his limp would allow.

      The old man returned to the window to watch the setting sun. As he contemplated the ceremony that he was about to undertake, he found that his right hand had once again found the tiny leather pouch that now hung around his neck on a thin braided cord. The sack may have been new, but it already felt comfortable in his hand, and stroking it seemed a natural activity when thinking. In fact, it seemed to calm his mind, as long as he didn’t give too much thought as to where the contents of the satchel had actually come from.

      Ten minutes later, the now-orange sun was finally touching the distant horizon so that it seemed that the water at the point of contact had begun to boil and steam.

      It is time.

      He retrieved his robe from a hook beside the door, threw it over his faded tunic, pulled the cowl up over his head, and slipped the dagger into one of the cloak's inner pockets.

      As he pulled the heavy door of his office open,

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