The Sword that Could Cut the Dark

Chapter 1

"Dammit Rain put that stick down and clean up the Inn!" yelled Rain's Uncle Conn after barging into Rain's small but neat room on the second floor. Rain dropped the stick, embarrassed to be caught pretending to fight with a sword again. He knew he was too old at fifteen to be play-fighting but the guards who were in town made him want to fight Daemons like he heard in the stories.

"Coming, coming," Rain said, pushing past his uncle in the doorway before he could say anything else to him. Life at the Wintercove Inn was always interesting with all the strangers who came in day in and day out. The work was never done and guests always left some mess that needed to be cleaned up or horse that needed to be saddled. Rain could remember a time not so long ago when his uncle would never have gotten so cross with him but the loss of his aunt last winter clearly took a large toll. Conn used to be the life of the party, making people laugh almost as much as he laughed himself, but no longer.

The common room was a large rectangle with the fireplace far from the door outside. Guests packed the tables lining the walls and all watched the bard telling stories next to the fire. Rain restacked the firewood while listening to the entertainer spinn his tale.

"....and so Raphael, hero of legend, hero of a thousand battles, pulled forth his equally legendary sword 'Daemonbane' from its sheath and smote the Archdaemon so soundly its body kept moving even without its head for three whole strides."

He was good as bards went. Living at an inn for as long as he could remember allowed Rain to hear many over the years. He had heard this story before though probably close to a thousand times. "The Sword that Could Cut the Dark" was how most people titled it. Daemons were evil creatures of myth and the Archdaemons were their leaders. Most besides children didn't even believe they ever existed. According to legend they were sent by God to teach humans but they grew jealous, fighting humans instead. The War wasn't going well until God sent down the Sword. It was a story everyone knew but no one complained about hearing it again. The winter was cold and dark this year and stories had a way of letting people forget.

Rain continued to walk around the room cleaning up plates and cups of ale or wine. There were probably thirty or fourty guests all in all which made for an amazing amount dishes to wash and garbage to throw out. The pile of scraps from dinner was piling up in the kitchen. "Oy Rain can you take this 'ere stuff outside ter the dogs. They're probably hungrier than a cat in a field of mice" said Fred who was a cook for as long as Rain could remember.

"Might as well" called back Rain still looking at the bard through the door.

"Good lad. Put your coat on, it's colder than a Daemon Heart out there."

Rain went and put his coat on and quickly opened and closed the door to keep the cold out of the kitchen. It was dark outside, and truly freezing. He was glad he was carrying a plate of hot food out to the dogs. The plate at least kept his hands warm. The Inn was called "Wintercove" for a reason. Winter always seemed to last just a bit longer in this town than anywhere else. It was quiet out which was weird considering that the dogs should have smelt the food by now. He bent down and looked in the dog houses, only fifty or so feet from the back door of the Inn, and the dogs were sitting inside calm as ever. As he straightened up confused, an hand gripped his shoulder and he screamed.