Dragon Skin (4 page)

Leaning back in his chair, Michael looked off into the distance. “I need your help in gathering some special items. Things I will need. As to why you? I don’t know. I didn’t pick you.”

“Well then who did damn it?”

Michael cocked his head and looked at him like he was child asking a stupid question. “Who do you think? And don’t ask me why.”

Landon felt the bottom drop out from his stomach like he was on a falling elevator. A God he didn’t even believe in had selected him. Why him, he wasn’t special. God knows he wasn’t a saint. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he put his hands in his lap to stop them from shaking.  Taking a deep breath he tried to gather himself.

He'd seen some truly weird shit over his twenty six years. But this was too weird to be real. In fact he was a little surprised that he wasn’t questioning it more. Deep down in the bottom of his soul, he knew every scary, weird detail was as true as anything he had ever known. 

They'd selected him to help save the world, who would have thought. He knew of a thousand people who would have been shocked. A smile crossed his face when he thought of Mrs. Timmons, his Eighth Grade History teacher. She'd taken him aside once, placed her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a semi hug, telling him that he had a great potential. That most people had the potential to be either good or bad, but he had the potential to be great or terrible. It was the only positive comment he ever remembered getting. At least he chose to look at it that way.

The responsibility of exactly what it all meant washed over Landon making him feel like some kind of formal announcement was needed.

“Okay, Michael, Archangel, warrior of God. I’m in. what do you want me to do.”

The Archangel smiled that self-satisfied smile that pissed Landon off. “I need you to retrieve my sword. But first, we need to stop so I can get some Cigars.”

Chapter Three

Amy Woods slammed the file cabinet drawer as she cursed under her breath. You’d think a world class University would have everything on computers. But no, the important things still seemed to be kept on paper. In a filing system designed by cave men no less. Opening the file, she removed the photo’s she wanted and returned to the lab table.

She still found it hard to believe that she was getting to examine Llewellyn’s Sword. Amazed that Brittan had let it out of the country.

Her advisor Dr. Harding had pulled some strings; in fact he’d pulled a lot of strings and Amy stomach tightened. She worried that he was going to want more than her simple appreciation. The thought bothered her, but she smiled when she looked back down at the sword and its black wooden scabbard resting on white fabric.

“You are beautiful,” she mumbled under her breath.

Her heart raced every time she saw it. Unlike any sword in the world, a flat twenty seven inch blade polished to the highest of shines with a long fuller groove running down the middle. Sharper than any modern scalpel, it was made of an unusual steel that today’s metallurgists couldn’t seem to duplicate. Both the blade and golden handle were covered in intricate designs and runes. No two of them alike but somehow creating a mesmerizing geometric pattern. No one had ever been able to decipher the symbols, but Amy Woods was going to. It was her ticket to a Ph.D. and her dream job of teaching at Columbia.

The sword had been found in in the deepest part of a Welsh cave four years ago. A fanciful story had immediately sprung up that it was supposedly the lost sword of ancient Welsh King Llewellyn.

The story being that the sword was stolen from Llewellyn the night before his battle with Edward I in 1282. The loss of the sword had resulted in Llewellyn’s death and the final conquest of Wales by the English.

Exhaustive research by Amy had proven that there was no mention of the sword at the time of the battle, either before or after. In fact the first time the story had appeared was shortly after the weapon had been found four years earlier.

Putting on her white gloves, Amy reverently picked up the sword and shivered as a slight tingle of electricity passed through her hands. Nothing about this weapon was normal.

The lab door opened behind her but she continued to stare at the hilt, a small symbol reminded her of something but she couldn’t place it. She’d seen it somewhere, something associated with Icelandic Vikings.

Somebody cleared their throat but she didn’t turn.  “You’ll have to come back later, I’m busy,” she said.

They cleared there throat again. Frustrated she put the sword down and swiveled to deal with the intruder. She gasped at the site of two large men standing in the middle of the room. Two very different looking men. The one on the left looked like an angel, perfect blond hair and penetrating blue eyes.

He's prettier than any woman she had ever seen, she thought. His high cheek bones and flawless skin gave him a sort of Scandinavian elfish look. Dressed in a distinguished Italian gray suite with a scarlet tie.

A faint sense of unease passed over her. She recognized him from somewhere. Not in person, but she knew that face. He looked like a mother’s dream for her daughter, tall, handsome, and rich.

But the man on the right was the one to capture her gaze. This was no angel. She subconsciously pushed her glasses back up and then tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Dressed in jeans and a gray duster like a refugee from a Van
Helsing novel. He looked like every bad boy from a sixteen year old girl’s fantasy. At close to six four with long black hair and a small scar over his right eye. His eyes peered through her as if he could see into her soul and liked what he found. A shiver that had nothing to do with the sword ran up her spine.

Her mouth went dry as she said, “You can’t come in here this is the lab.” She knew it sounded lame but her mind didn’t seem to be working correctly as she continued to stare at bad boy.

He turned to his companion and raised that damaged eyebrow as if to ask ‘what now?’

The angelic one smiled and said, “We need the sword.”

His voice was smoother than Indian silk, Amy thought, then shook her head. “You can’t steal this sword, it’s priceless,” she said, realizing how stupid she sounded.

“We’re not stealing your sword. We are retrieving mine.” Mr. Angel said.

Her insides turned to mush and for the first time she felt a surge of fear. They were serious. Her eyes jumped to the table, looking for a weapon to protect the sword. No way were they taking it.

Bad boy made a move towards her, holding out his hand.

“You can’t, it doesn’t belong to you,” she said, stepping back, wanting to kick herself for the obvious lack of verbal skills. She was going to have to work on that.

“Actually miss, it does belong to me. I left it stuck in a stone in a Welsh forest a long
long time ago. But some kid stole it from the rock. It wasn’t his to take,” blondy said as if he were talking about an urchin taking an apple from a cart.

Amy looked at the bad boy raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘Is this guy for real?’ He stood there with his hand out as if he were waiting for her to turn over her car keys.

Suddenly a feeling of conviction washed over her. Something from the outside filled her mind with knowledge. They were telling the truth. Somehow she knew that sword belonged to this golden god.  Shaking her head to clear the strange feeling, she stepped back and held the sword before her, threatening them if they came any closer. No way was she letting them have it. She didn’t care who it belonged too.

The blond guy smiled at her, looking for all the world like a harmless kitten. He knew that she knew she realized. Bad boy dropped his hand and asked “Should I take it, we need to get going.”

“Don’t you dare,” She said, making a small lunge with the sword.

“No we can’t take it; it has to be given willingly. That is one of its charms,” The Blond man said. Standing there, pondering his next move.

“Well, do your stuff and let’s go,” bad boy said.

“I can’t force her, nor may I deceive her into giving it to us. We will have to tell her the truth. It seems that is the only thing that seems to work with you people.”

“Hold on, you can’t do that. You told me that’s not reversible. Remember, the other night in the alley. It effects people!” bad boy said, his hand raised as if to stop his friend.

“Yes, you’re correct, but it can’t be helped. It would have been different if we’d found the sword unattended. I mean think about it, the sword’s been buried in a cave on the other side of the ocean and just when we need it, this woman has it. Someone is trying to tell us something.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t the one who insisted we stop for cigars.” Bad boy said.

Amy looked back and forth between the two, her head like the proverbial ping pong ball. Fighting to come to some type of understanding. She was a scientist for Christ’s sake. There must be some explanation. She measured the distance to the door. She’d never make it and didn’t think she could use the sword against them, it might be damaged. Her stomach knotted up at the mere thought of anything happening to it.

“Ms. Woods, my name is Michael and this is my friend Landon,” The blond one said, nodding his head at Bad boy. Landon, it seemed appropriate. “I will ask one more time, may we please have the sword. You know that it belongs to us.”

She pointed the weapon at him, then at the other, moving it back and forth. This Michael guy stared deep into her eyes and she knew everything. All color drained from her face and she almost lost her grip on the precious sword. Archangel Michael’s sword. Her very being knew it was true. As sure as she would know it is daytime when the sun shines. There was no doubt, no wondering. Her very soul knew it as the truth.

“B… but, I don’t understand… It can’t be,” she said but there was no doubt. The room grew dark and her eyes started to roll back in her head. Somehow she forced herself back. Grabbing the lab table, she plopped into the chair.

“I am sorry Ms. Woods,” Michael said.

“Man, you can be a real shit at times.” Landon said to Michael, shaking his head and looking at Amy with concern. He looked out of practice she thought and watched him slap Michael on the arm and say, “What are you going to do.

Michael didn’t move, but continued to watch the young woman. She glanced at Landon, her eyes assessing. “You’re one of us,” she said. “Human, not an angel, but you’re helping him.”

Landon looked a little sheepish and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“Yes of course,” she said and then turned to the angel her eyes going over every inch, assessing and evaluating like a good scientist. “Tell me about the sword,” she said, trying to buy time while her mind raced.

Michael pulled over a spare chair and slowly sat down, smoothing his pants. Bad boy Landon stood next to him like a towering block of gray granite. Michael tore his eyes away from the sword and glanced at Amy before they were drawn back to the sword in her lap.  A deep desire shone through them like laser beams as his hand rose slightly, hoping to hold it once again. But he seemed to gather himself, taking a deep breath he looked up.

“I forged it myself over 70,000 years ago,” He began. “A young African tribesman named
Klutai led me to a fallen star on the plains of the Serengeti. I spent years pounding away, pouring my blood into every layer, engraving each symbol from memory.”

A weak smile crossed his perfect lips. “I filled it with power until it was the strongest weapon ever imagined. I used the sword to carve its scabbard out of an ebony tree struck by
lightning on a clear day.  I sharpened the blade on a whetstone from the bottom of the Dead Sea.  And then met Lucifer in the desolate Sahara,” Michael said, his eyes lost in thought as if he was looking out over an endless sea of sand.  Amy felt the power building within him and the sword responded, growing warm in her hand as it fed off him.

“Lucifer had been secretly ruining your chances. A natural disaster here, a plague there. You humans were down to about two thousand souls scattered in small bands and family groups. Living a hand to mouth existence. It was a real question as to whether you were going make it. You only had fire and primitive rock tools, but he knew what you could become.”  The Angel smiled and sighed and grew quiet as he remembered. “We fought for three days. It was a truly epic battle.”

“The sword has reappeared throughout your history. It is imbued with a special power. Each of those engravings is there for a reason.”

“Alexander used it to cut the Gordian knot.  Romulus yielded it when he beat the Etruscan tribes on a hill top in central Italy. Mohammed called is
Zulfiqar and used it when he took Mecca and Medina. Emperor Qin carried it into battle on his way to starting the Chinese empire. Gengis Khan charged across the steps with this very sword raise above his head. Every Empire, every great kingdom.  It has a way of making its way to that vital juncture of events that impact history. It was even pulled out of a stone and used by a young boy to defend a kingdom against an invading Germanic horde.”

“Excalibur!” Amy whispered breathlessly.

“Yes, Your mythical Excalibur. And more, much more. I have used it myself, each time I have met the evil one in battle. It is a part of me, the closest thing I have to a soul,” Michael said, looking longingly at the weapon in her lap.

Amy’s hands began to shake and she quickly placed the sword back on the table next to the black scabbard. Excalibur! It was too much. The sword of dreams, what stories it could tell. No one would ever believe it. How could she prove it? She looked back at the two men. Her stomach hurt and she had to swallow to stop herself from throwing up. Excalibur! She couldn’t let it out of her sight, couldn’t give it to these men. It might disappear, lost to history. The scientist in her shivered at the mere idea.

“I will give you the sword on one condition,” she said, looking at them both in turn.

“What would that be my dear,” Michael asked.

“I go with it. You take me. And I get it back when you are done. I will not let it out of my sight unless I can be part of its next story.”

“No!” bad boy, Landon snapped, “You can’t let her get mixed up in this, like you said, those guys the other night weren’t playing tidily winks.”

Michael cocked his head as he studied the woman. She held her breath waiting for his judgment. She didn’t know if she could deny them the sword, but it was worth a try.

“Actually Ms. Woods will be of great assistance in the next few projects we need to complete. Her expertise will be exceptionally beneficial. It’s almost like it was planned or something,” Michael said, looking towards the ceiling.

Amy let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Being careful not to touch the wickedly sharp edge, she retrieved the sword, holding it by both the handle and the flat of the blade with her gloved hands. “Very well, I willingly give you the sword Michael,” She said presenting it at arm’s length.

Michael started to reach for it then blanched, shook himself and stepped back. “No, you must give it to Landon; I may not possess it yet. No matter how much it calls to me,” Michael said gazing on it like a lost love. He smiled at her and said, “I may not touch it until we are fully ready.” Amy nodded as if she understood but her look of confusion belied the point.