A Prophecy of Two Boys

Chapter 9

(Edited 27/07/2020)

Chapter 9

Percy's Point of View

We were standing in a field of strawberries, the sea stretching far out to our left and a dense forest to our right. Laughter and loud voices filled the air, accompanied by the splashing of paddles in water, the clash of steel on steel and occasionally the solid thud of what might have been arrows hitting a target. The sky above our heads was clear of clouds, but luckily the heat was at that perfect temperature; not too hot, but still warm.

Spotting a path curving away through the forest, we followed it, the sounds of laughter growing louder. We passed an obstacle course that was a built at all different levels:  from down at ground level to all the way up in the trees. The children using it all had similar features; dark hair and serious faces. I wouldn't call any of them particularly pretty, but then again they didn't look like the kind of kids that you'd tell them that to their face. These kids looked as if they knew their way round a fight. Luckily, they didn't pay us any attention, as they were all fully concentrated on making their way through the obstacle course or cheering on their friends.

As we walked along the path we could see figures dancing round the trees. They had green skin and pretty faces, and appeared to be coming out of the trees. We frowned. That wasn't normal.

'Tree nymphs?' Harry suggested. I shrugged.

'Could be.'

Other beings made their way through the trees too; Satyrs chatted with the nymphs as they danced, their furry legs and hooves standing out amongst the pretty nymphs. They didn't notice us either, too busy chatting and dancing to pay attention to a random stranger walking down the path.

The path ended in a sandy clearing. Dummies made of straw and wooden poles, dressed in Greek armour, were being hacked at by a group of children, all aged maybe eight to nineteen, with swords. We immediately recognised a tall blond boy, with a scar running down his left cheek. He'd been in our first dream of this place. The boy's blue eyes were alight with a fierce passion as he instructed the younger children in swordplay. We moved a little closer, used to the other children ignoring us by now, and listened in on his demonstration.

He called on a kid, who was obviously new to sword-fighting, by the uncomfortable way he held his unbalanced blade, and the horror in his expression.

"Good luck," one of the other kids muttered, "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

The kid called upon blanched, but still joined the blond boy, Luke, up in front of everybody. Luke showed the kid some thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way, bruising the poor kid a little more with each swipe. We sighed, wanting more than anything to take the place of battered boy, and show the group what a real fight looked like, but we knew we couldn't. We weren't actually here, after all.

"Keep you guard up, Ethan," Luke would say, whacking the boy in the ribs with the flat of his blade. "No, not that far up." Whap! "Lunge!" Whap! "Now back!" Whap!

We frowned. This boy, Luke, he may have been 'the best swordsman in the last three hundred years', but his technique wasn't perfect. There were slips in his guard and times when he left himself open to a seasoned fighter. Despite being older than us by at least 8 years, I was confident we could probably take him in a fight. Then we shook our head. What were we thinking of? This was a dream, not real life!

Before Ethan could collapse under the weight of blows hitting him, a young female voice cut into Luke's instructions.

"Alright, Luke. Surely that's enough. Can't you see the poor kid's beat?"