Now that NaNoWriMo is over I can continue, sorry for the delay. :)-Kay

Chapter 7

“Rourke’s? How did you get Rourke’s sword?” I asked, astonished.              “It was entrusted to me for safe keeping.” Ditri said, his voice fell a notch lower than its normal rumble. “And I failed that duty. You see, Macarann was what you might say magic. It was made out of a very special kind of metal that no longer exists as far as anyone knows. When Ivy continued to meet with Hevan it started to lose its power. Then when Rourke swung it at the monster and it came into contact with Hevan’s blood the good in it was forced out. Rourke, being good if he was indeed an angel, could no longer hold it so he discarded it. Long ago my grandfather found it and was very nearly horrified. He kept the blade and hid it for years its secret locked away in his brain until the day that he died. I happened to be there and he gave the sword to me, telling me to protect it.” He sighed. “And, as I said, I have failed that task. Kellen, though he couldn’t have possibly known what properties it had he stole it to use as a weapon.”             “Properties?” I asked.             “I am not sure what they are but my grandfather warned me not to ever let the blade be used. He said that he had made that mistake once and that I was to never, ever let it fall into another’s hands. As a sword that belonged to an angel and that was used to fight a great evil it probably does have some kind of power though what, I do not know.”             “I’ve never heard the part about the sword before, or about HolyOne’s name.” I commented, recalling the tale as I had heard it time and again at campfires and carnivals. Ditri smiled.             “That is because humans live shorter life spans than dragons do and we remember. Think about it. If one dragon lives for every five humans than how much greater is the chance that the humans’ version will become corrupted before the dragons?” He asked.             I shrugged. “How old does that make you anyway?” I asked.             “That is beside the point, Lara.”             “Oh?” I asked raising my eyebrows. “Than what is the point?”             “The point is that we will be leaving soon.”             “Wait, what? Leaving? To go where?”             “You ask far too many questions sometimes Lara.” Ditri groaned.             “I do not!” I replied indignantly.             Now it was Ditri’s turn to cock one scaly brow. “Oh?”             “Stop playing games with me!” I ordered sternly, my fear of the dragon now almost completely gone.             He laughed deeply. “So now it has come to the little girl ordering the dragon around?” He rumbled. “To answer one of your questions we are going to look for someone who may know a little more about this prophesy than we. “ He held up one long claw before I could ask ‘who?’ and said, “My brother Grinl. He’s somewhat of a know-it-all, as well as my sister, who is somewhat of an expert on weapons and ways of war. And don’t act all surprised that I knew what you were going to say, you have become entirely too predictable.”             I growled at him and he growled back. I huffed.             “I would imitate you but not only might I burn you but I could risk hurting one of my treasures.” He said; looking at the shelves in the little room, all stocked with odd items.             “Well thanks for caring.” I said sarcastically.             “Your welcome.”             “Ditri?”             “Another question?” He heaved a sigh. I ignored him. “Did you know that Faylin sings?”             Ditri sat up straighter and gave me an odd look. “Who was doing what?” He asked.             “Last night I could have sworn I saw Faylin, sitting on a rock and singing.”             “Do you happen to remember what the song was?” He asked.             “I don’t know, something about spring I think and days and summer but no, I don’t know it.” I replied, racking my memory. “I think one of the lines was something about ‘summer sun fades away’.” I shook my head. “I can’t remember. I just thought it strange that Faylin would be singing.”             “It is rather odd but I think I’ve heard something of his singing talents though I’ve never heard them myself.” Ditri said.             “Faylin sings?”             “Actually quite well from what I’ve heard.” The dragon replied seriously.             “How soon?”             “Will Faylin be singing again? I have no idea.”             “No, no! I meant; how soon are we going to be leaving?”             “Two days from now. Stop asking so many questions.”             I huffed again.             “Ah… Lara. Do you mind not doing that?”             “What?”             “You, child, have very bad breath. Do you brush?”     So it was that the next day was spent full of preparations and packing, accompanied by much mumbled complaints from Durant from getting left behind. Ditri told him that he needed to stay home and help take care of his most recent set off grand-cubs. Faylin tactlessly told the badger that he was too old and would only get in the way. Ditri then threatened to leave Faylin behind as well so the wolf went off to make his own preparations alone.              That left Ditri to help me pick out my weapon of choice. What choice? I had no clue what made a good sword. Finally we decided on a thin and lightweight, blue tinted, two edged sword with a simple leather hilt and a softened metal scabbard that was decorated with a long, silver vine. I also chose a much smaller and leather made sheath for my dagger. I practiced swinging the sword a few times in order to get a better fell of it and found that it fit nicely in my grip and was not too heavy for me to wield.             After this small bit of business was done Ditri went somewhere into the depths of his never ending labyrinth of tunnels and chambers that only he seemed to know how to navigate and came back with a rather old piece of parchment.             “This,” he said unrolling it gently to keep from tearing its fragile fibers. “Is a map to Veilara’s home.”             “I thought we were going to find Grinl.” He gave me a very weary look. “They are married, dear human.” “Ah.” I replied somewhat sheepishly. Duh.