Full Circle chapter 19

Darius shook his head to clear the memories away then turned his head to stare at the lit candles which burned softly in his bedroom.

He preferred the candlelight to the harshness of electrical lighting even though the electrical lighting was a far better improvement than the light given off by any fire or candle's gleam. It reminded him of his youth as well as his long lifetime; it was what he had grown up with and had used as the only means of light at night for centuries.

He sighed deeply then stood up and walked over to the bed. Slipping his habit off over his head, he tossed it to one side, then bent down to remove his shoes. The soft light gleamed upon his body; it still showed signs of the strength of the man despite the centuries of pacifism and not picking up a sword to fight another.

He stood and stretched as he worked out the kinks in his muscles before going over to the wall beside his bed, running his fingertips along the stonework and masonry until he felt a stone move.

Bending down, he blew on the crack which held the stone in place as he worked both hands and fingers against it, removing the plaster and mortar that had held it in place for centuries. It was harder to remove than what he remembered it ever having been before--he grinned to himself. Of course it's going to be harder--it hadn't been bothered in centuries; there's never been a need for it to be disturbed.

Until now, that is.

The stone moved apart from the others. Darius pushed in and it ground across the other stonework occassionally catching itself on it. Soon, a distinct gap was showing in the wall, he pulled the stone outwards into his hands where it fell with a heavy plop.

Reaching into the opening in the wall he felt around for a moment until he felt the cloth enshrouded object he was searching for and withdrew it into the light.

The cloth crumbled away at his touch and he gently laid the long object on his bed, then reached over to grab a candle for better lighting. His eyes looked upwards at the ceiling light and he nodded to himself that he needed the better lighting of electricity rather than the dim canldelight. He flipped on the overhead light, blew out the candle and carefully unwrapped the object.

Inside the cloth was an ancient sword, short and squat in design similar to Roman blades but it was definitely not Roman in orgin. The grip and pommel were intricately engraved and wrapped in gold wire which was made into elaborate animal figures and depictions of gods and men.

Darius ran a hand upon the grip as he fingered the design, then followed the blade upwards to its' tip with his fingers. He curled he fingers into a fist and brought his hand back, his face showing near disgust at the thought of even picking it up.

Greyson had been a good swordman when he trained him--how much better had he become now? Darius felt that perhaps just in case Greyson should show and want his head, he should at least be prepared. He reached down and slipped the sword into his hands, swinging it in an arc to get the feel of it again.

It felt--it felt--unnatural! To be even considering using it went aagainst everything that Darius had been for centuries and taught others too. It would bring him down to the level of savagery that he now was beyond, and the thought of him fighting another sickened him.

He glanced it over a final time, replaced the fragile cloth over it again and returned it to its' hidden niche in the wall. He then replaced the stone; the wall looked as it had before without a trace of what was hidden inside or that the wall had been disturbed. No one would have ever thought that the wall held something very precious and rare and that was how he wanted it.

What should he do about Greyson?

"Perhaps," he said outloud to the walls, "the question should be what can I do?"