Blades of the Warriors 2

Hi everybody! Here's the second part of my story! Hope you like it! Just so you know, here the story switches to a different character, Arthur Colins. Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Arthur
Arthur
Hello there. My name is Arthur Colins. I am thinking that you would be wanting to hear my part of the story titled, 'Blades of the Warriors'. I know you have already heard a little from Halla, but let me enlarge your view. It is my story, and though I am not the main character, nevertheless, I am a main charactor and without me some parts of this tale would never have come to pass. And let me tell you, young ones, that you will be wanting to hear my part. I learned a great lesson from it, which I have never forgotten over the years. Even when my beard turned white. And perhaps one day you too will understand, young ones, that wisdom is something gained by age, and you will learn a lesson from my experiance and not have to learn it the hard way, as I did. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. We will begin at the beginning. (what a good place to begin, if you'll pardon my saying.)
It was a rainey day in London England and I was tired of reading Ivanhoe, so I persuaded my mother to let me run down the lane to my Aunt's home. I made a mad dash through the rain (something only young people can do), and arrived comparitivly dry. My Aunt (Aunt Mary I called her) was a jolly sort. She was round and plump (probably from eating too many scones) with red cheeks and little, round little speckticles that did not hide her sparkling blue eyes.
"Why Arthur," she said, "You are all wet. Never mind, come inside, there is someone I want you to meet." and then she bustled me inside. I followed her catioulsy into the sitting room. I was only about twelve or thirteen years old at the time, and I did not like new people very well. But in this case I might not have worried. It was a young boy of about eight years. He had big brown eyes and shaggy brown hair. he looked as though he had been out in the weather for some time, and he was very damp, so he was sitting by the fire to dry himself off. "Now Arthur," said Aunt Mary, "this is Will. He likes the sort of things that you do, castles, knights, and that sort of thing. Well, I'll go warm some chocolate for you wihile you get aquainted." Then she bustled off.
I sat down with Will and found that he did like the same things as I did. I cannot remember our conversation, only that it was about some sort of tourture machine. It is funny what age does to your mind. I thought at the time that this was an important conversation, but I look back now and cannot remember a word that was said. It just goes to show you that the important things of life are often the things you remember, weather they be good or bad. I found that they are often bad, but perhaps I am getting ahead of myself again. As I was saying Will and I were talking, and then Aunt Mary came in with some hot chocolate and a plate of cookies. For you simply cannot have chocolate without cookies, and Aunt Mary knew this (she was a ver wise old woman) and so she brought some in. When we were finished Aunt Mary set her cup down and smiled at us over her speckticls. "Why don't you boys go up and play in the atic?" she sugjested. And so we did.
The attic was one of my favorite places in the world. It was full of interesting things, that much I remember, but not much besides that. But there is one thing I remember clearly. It was an old trunk full of little boxes with good things in them. I can't remember what was in them, only that they were interesting to look at and handle. I showed this trunk to Will, and we went through all the boxes. I was ready to put them back in, but Will was running his fingers along the bottom of the trunk. Suddenly his fingers touched a hidden button and a secret trap door sprung open. Inside there lay a bundle wrapped in red velvet. We lifted it out and gingerly unwrapped it. There was a stone knife, a dagger, a bottle of cordial, and a small piece of parchment. I picked up the stone knife. It was carved and cruel, made out of some sort of black rock. Will took the dagger and cordial. The cordial was red, and both it and the dagger were attached to a belt. He buckled it around his waist then picked up the parchment and handed it to me. I undid the black ribbon that held it. It was written in purple lettering, and this is what it said:

Read not this parchment,

Touch not the stone knife,

Or the fate of Chaun

Is traded for your life.

Be wise, my friend

For what you long,

For in Chaun your mind

Turns right to wrong.

So go, my friend,

And guard your way.

Perhaps you'll return to

Your home, someday.

Watch for the one with

The shield and the sword,

For she alone

Can cut the cord

That binds tight

The land of Chaun,

Always unbroken

Ever strong.

Will and I stared at each other in horror. "I'm sorry," wispered Will. "I wish I hadn't found it." I stared at the knife in my hands. I was to wish also that we had never found it. We got up, shaken, to go downstairs, but when we opened the attic door, through it was not Aunt Mary's attic stairway, but a cold, grey land with a large, red sun. And before we knew it we had stepped through and the door had closed and disappeared behind us.