Free Stormcaller (Book 1) by Everet Martins Page B

flight, their bodies entangling one another. Within the tomb were chains connected to the fragments of manacles glowing white like the walls. The chains were covered in a thick black substance that Walter was hesitant to touch. “You have to see this,” he said, incredulous.
    He looked up as Juzo strode by, ignoring him, heading towards the ornate blade resting in an equally ornate sheathe. As Juzo walked he kicked aside a small pile of bright, glittering stones. “Juzo, those are power-diamond marks you’re kicking, you fool!” Walter said. Walter snagged one from the floor, raising it to an open eye, the other tightly closed. “Do know what this is worth? We’re rich! We could buy a house in Breden for just one of these!” The stone was perfectly clear, other than the tiny dragon woven of flames that oscillated within, shimmering as the flames varied in intensity. “Incredible,” he said, stuffing the stone into his pocket, lips forming a broad smile. The only time he had seen one those before was in Midgaard’s Hall of Artifacts. He tossed one to Juzo, who caught it without looking, jamming it into his pocket.
    “Nice catch,” Walter said.
    “Yeah,” Juzo said absently. He reached the blade and intently unsheathed it before his eyes. The blade appeared to be swallowing the very light itself, visibly dimming the room. The blade wasn’t dark or black, but the very absence of light.
    “This blade is death – I could destroy anything with this weapon,” he said. Juzo’s eyes and face twisted for a moment, eyes briefly flashing with the same blackness as the weapon.
    I’m hallucinating – long day with little sleep. Though, that was bizarre… keep an eye on him, trust your gut, Walter thought. “Now that is a unique blade,” he said aloud.
    Juzo read the inscription on the sheathe: “Blackout, slayer of dreams. It seems appropriate, doesn’t it?” he asked breathlessly.
    “Indeed, let me see it.” Walter said, with his hand outstretched. Juzo started handing it towards him, and then paused.
    “This is mine, Walter, not yours or anyone else’s,” he said. He pulled the sword back to his chest, guarding it with both hands. “Let’s get out of here. We can look at it better when we’re outside in the sun,” he said.
    “Are you feeling OK?” Walter asked.
    Juzo shook his head, eyes down.
    “I just want to get out of this Dragon-forsaken, dungeon hole in the ground,” he said, vexed.
    “Me too, let’s go.” Walter knelt and stuffed the rest of the glittering marks into his satchel. In the corner opposite where the sword had been, laid something else encased in dust. Walter cautiously tapped it with his foot, dust cakes sliding off it. It appeared to be a gauntlet. He examined it, discovering its beauty. Sinuous curves coated the gauntlet, converging in the center to form a spiraled Dragon. Three thick leather straps hung loosely from the underside. His visceral reaction was to strap it to his dominant lash arm.
    “Strange that something that looks so much like a lash lacks the whip piece,” Walter said wonderingly. “Maybe it was burned off at some point.”
    Juzo’s back was to him, rapt in the depth of Blackout. Walter snapped his arm in a mock whip crack. Four amber tendrils extended from the gauntlet’s rounded tip. “Whoa!” Walter jumped.
    He held the lash to his side as the luminescent whips waved of their own accord. He gently felt a tendril between his fingers. It sparked and sizzled, thankfully not inflicting any pain. He swung at the wall. The color of the whips transformed into a bright vermilion mid-flight. When they struck, they passed through the wall, leaving four deep scars in the glowing stones. When the lashes returned to him, they resumed their soft amber glow, harmless.
    “That was incredible! Did you see that, Juzo?” Walter said excitedly. “It doesn’t look to have a name. I’ll call it Stormcaller,” he proclaimed. “It’s like a hail of lashes on