Friday, August 19, 2005

   The Warrior who hates the Rain (ep. 5)
The next day, afternoon, above Spain, in a plane ; Mytho
I sat at the window seat, my sword at my side I held it like a cane. I dressed like a skiing tourist, blue jeans and a purple sweater. It seems nobody travels that much anymore. The cabin was sparingly so they allowed people to sit where they wanted. I sat in the front row on the left side of the plane. Nobody else sat near me, The New age Warriors and the swords gave people the wrong signals. We were hated, much like any organizations, there are followers and haters and people who don’t care. I flight would be landing in Milan, Italy. There I will find a ride north to Switzerland. Once there I would have to find the hidden path to the building or whatever it’s called, temple, dojo, sacred place. The building sat on top of a mountain, actually it was the top of a mountain. This building or whatever was home to the Council of the New age Warriors. I’ve been there only once. To become a warrior, you had to find it first and than you went through the process of trying to break a ceramic plate on the chest of the Grand Sword Master. It usually takes weeks maybe even months I heard of someone taking a year to do it, and I heard someone completed it in 24 hours. The plane started to bank left, I looked out the window and I was looking directly down at the ground. We had to be above Milan and were descending to land. It took about 12 minutes for the plane to finally pull into the tarmac. The Captain gave us the okay to leave the plane. I got up and got my Jansport bookbag out of the overhead compartment, I threw over my shoulder and carried my sword in the other hand. Surprisingly as I walked too through the airport and out of the gate and exited out onto the street. Nobody asked if I was a warrior and asked to see my amulet. I started to walk north on the side of the highway looking for a truck I can climb into the back. With my luck an old farm truck with hay in the back passed me, I started to run for it, I grabbed the back and threw my self in it. I squeezed in the middle of the hay bales. The truck slowed and than I heard a voice of what must have been border patrol.
“Ah Mr. Whitaker you found some hay for those cows of yours,” I heard a man say.
“Yup I had to go almost to Rome to find it,” it had to be the driver cause I heard him more loudly.
“All right you can pass see ya later Mr. Whitaker,” the truck started to move and I moved to the back. Sure enough I had passed though, now all I have to hope full is that Skual doesn’t track me down with the airports. I remember very fondly of where the concealed path was but I had an idea of the surroundings. I moved to the back and moved the bales enough too cerate a space I could relax and watch the surroundings pass by. I was getting colder so I got my red snowboarder’s jacket out and put it on. But it was my legs that were getting cold. I got my grey snow pants on, soon my hands begun to get numb. So now I was dress for snow, I looked back and it was getting more hilly as the truck went than it became more wooded and than turns I knew I was close. I stood up and tried to look ahead. The trees got more dense and it was getting more steep with turn after turn after turn. Than it was a hill and a turn with more to come and I jumped off onto the road. I looked around. This had to be the place. Than I found it a tree with a marking on it. It was an oak tree with it leaves still on it. An oak tree in Switzerland. “Yea nothing suspicious about that,” the marking was the same as the amulet. A fancy letter “N” for. I walked up to the tree and ran my hand across the mark. I searched my pockets and found my Amulet I took it out, it was made of gold and was strung on one of the most durable thin strands of metal. I fitted mine in the mark of the tree, and in the bark of the tree an arrow glowed pointing in a northwesterly direction. I started to walk in the direction. I found the trees getting thinner and the hill more steep. It took about an hour for me to finally walk five miles. And out into an opening at the base of a mountain. In front of me sat the staircase that leads up to the large stone building, temple thingy. I don’t like stairs and I can walk faster in the snow than climbing stairs. So I decided to walk up on the short stone railing. As I walked, the building came closer and closer. I need to come up with a story. I can’t just tell them who I am and what happens to me, they might want to test me. I know I’ll tell them I’m here to take the swordsman’s test. See the New age Warriors have ranks you start of at a fighter, able to carry a blade. Than you can become a swordsman, than you can carry two blades, than you must choose what class to go into. Either a Watcher, Warrior, or a Council Apprentice. The Watchers job was to act like police but secretly, a Warrior you could be a guard, hired Merc or just someone who does jobs for the council. A Council Apprentice is a position where you would train to become a master and be a government official. That usually takes until you’re about 50 years old. The large wooden doors came into view two guards. I took a breath and approached casually . . .
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