Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 From Within Chapter 1

   (c) Unworthy1 2004

   Pain!  All encompassing, all consuming abject, screaming agony.  His
body felt as though it was on fire.  His skin felt as if it was being
flayed from his body, every muscle spasmed in the worst kind of cramp,
bones aching as if they were shattered beyond repair.  He was convinced he
could feel his blood beginning to boil and his organs start to liquefy. 
His entire being felt like one big toothache.  It didn't matter what he did
to try to relieve himself of it, it just seemed to increase in intensity
almost exponentially.  His last cognitive thought before he passed to
blessed oblivion was "I thought this was supposed to be painless!"

   1 week ago.  "Eric Lee Faye, get out of that bed and get ready for
school NOW!  The bus leaves in less than an hour, I won't tell you again."
his mother screamed up the stairs at him.  Eric let out a deep sigh and
sluggishly swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

   He hung his head despondently, staring unhappily at his fat pink thighs
under the large pale stomach.  It was a cold morning even by January's
standards so he sat there with his duvet wrapped around him while trying to
work up the enthusiasm to get up and start his day.

   His door barged open and in came his dog Nero, tail wagging and tongue
lolling from the side of his mouth.  Nero was a 240lb English Mastiff and
very few doors could keep him out if he decided he wanted to be on the
other side of it.  Eric brought his arm out from its warm surroundings and
absently stroked the dogs head, getting a lick from his massive tongue for
his trouble.

   Not for the first time, he thought, "How am I ever gonna get Susie to
like me when I look like this?  Or any girl for that matter?"

   From within his mind came a soft, kind feminine voice, "Patience young
one, patience."

   "Easy for you to say.  You don't have to walk around looking like this,
hearing the sniggers, smiling at the insults and trying to act out the
'Jolly Fat Kid' routine every bloody day.  I am arse over tit in love with
a girl who barely knows I exist and I have had enough.  Why am I like this?
I don't eat any more than my friends, I exercise, I train at your
insistence and yet I just keep getting fatter.  " he thought back.

   "All will become clear, young one.  Patience.  Trust me."

   "I do trust you but it's so hard sometimes." he responded.

   Once again, the loving tone and kind words of the voice took the edge
off of his bitterness and almost lifted his spirits.  Almost.

   For as long as he could remember, Eric had had the Voice in his head. 
He no longer spoke to anyone about the voice since he had been dragged to
see the family doctor at the age of 6 for insisting that the Voice had made
him late home for his dinner for the third night in a row.  He had tried to
explain that the Voice as he had come to call it had insisted that he try
to chop down a small sapling with an old broom handle.  His parents decided
that enough was enough.  He was forced to see an army of different people,
look at ridiculous ink splodges, play silly word games and sit with a
horrid, pinched faced woman who seemed to really dislike his parents.  She
spent the entire afternoon trying to get him to tell her lies about his mum
and dad.

   Throughout this ordeal, the Voice had been uncommonly quiet; it made no
suggestions, didn't offer any opinions and left him to fend for himself. 
At one point he started to wonder if the doctor had actually made the Voice
go away and the thought terrified him.  Eventually Eric decided for him
self that the quickest way to make everyone happy would be to tell them he
had made it all up.  This seemed to satisfy everyone apart from his
parents, but after the doctor told them that it was "Just the product of a
healthy 6 year old boy's imagination," they seemed to calm down as well and
took him home.

   The Voice, much to Eric's' relief, returned later that evening, but he
wisely decided that discretion being the better part of valour, he would
keep the knowledge to himself.  It had been a frighteningly lonely
afternoon being alone in his head.

   Eric grabbed his school cloths and headed for the bathroom.  After he
had cleaned his teeth and thoroughly checked his face for spots or the
first sign of a non existent beard, he dropped some gel in his hair and
spent 5 minutes of so trying to make his hair look stylishly tousled.  As
he stood back to admire his handiwork in the mirror, he looked at himself
critically.  "My eyes are about the only thing I actually like about my
appearance." he thought to himself.  They were the darkest brown eyes he
had ever seen and people often commented on how kind they looked.  The rest
of his face he was less than happy with.  "If I put on any more weight on
my face I'll get jowls like you boy, I've already got more chins than a
Chinese phone book." he said to the dog with a sad, mirthless smile.

   As usual he was last to arrive at the breakfast table.  His 10 year old
sister Katie stuck her tongue out at him as he sat down.  His father,
David, sat reading the paper while smoking his cigarette.  He glanced over
the top of the paper as Eric poured his cereal into a bowl and reached for
the milk, looking at him disapprovingly.  "Son, you are 14 years old almost
15 and yet your mother still has to treat you like a 5 year old and get you
up in the morning.  Everyone else manages to get up in plenty of time. 
Everyone else just sets their alarm clock like adults and gets up when it
goes off.  When are you going to start acting like you are growing up?"

   Eric had heard this countless times before and had learned that there
was no correct answer the apparently rhetorical question.  His father would
argue with him about it no matter what he said so he just decided not to
respond and eat his cereal.  Usually his father would sigh and go back to
reading his paper but today he was not going to be that lucky.

   "Don't ignore me when I am talking to you." his dad said in a firm
voice. "I asked you a question.  When are you going to grow up?" he
repeated.

   "I don't know dad." he replied in a petulant tone.  "When are you going
to get off my back?"

   As soon as he said it he knew it was the wrong thing to say but he had
had enough.  He left the table, leaving his breakfast half finished,
grabbed his school bag and headed out of the door as his dad was ranting
and raving at him from the kitchen.  He had heard it all before so he
ignored it and left for school.

   Eric was lost in a daydream as he arrived at the bus stop.  It was one
of his favourites involving the girl of his dreams Susie Maddocks, so he
wasn't overly happy to be shaken from his imaginings by his best friend
Robin.

   "Earth to Eric, Earth to Eric, come in Eric." said Robin.

   "What, oh sorry mate, I was away with the fairies there.  What were you
saying?"

   Robin grinned at him.  "Susie again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

   "Who else would I dream about but the woman of my dreams?" Eric replied.

   Robin chuckled.  "Why the hell don't you stop mooning over her and just
ask her out?  You've liked her for forever, it's so obvious you fancy her
so just ask her out."

   "What and have my heart handed to me on a stick?  I couldn't handle the
rejection mate.  At least in my dreams she knows I exist.  Besides, I am
fairly sure that my fantasies are much better than the reality would be."
Eric said with a sly smile.

   "No doubt you perv.  What was she wearing today?  Satin, lace, leather,
or was she in the all-together?"

   "Now who's the perv!" he said with false exasperation and gave Robin a
punch on the shoulder.

   As they were boarding the bus Robin said to him, "If you can't ask Susie
out, why not ask someone else out?  You never know, they might say yes and
even if they don't the rejection won't be half as bad as it would be if
your goddess said no."

   "I don't know mate, who would I ask?  Anyway I would feel like I was
cheating on Susie."

   Robin laughed, shaking his head.  "You've got some serious problems in
that twisted mind of yours mate.  How can you cheat on someone that isn't
sure of your name?"

   Eric had to agree that his logic was twisted but he couldn't explain how
he felt, he just knew deep in his soul that he shouldn't do it.

   "Stick to your guns on this Young One, Don't let Robin bully you into
anything you are not comfortable with." Voice whispered in his head.

   "Yeah but he has a point.  Maybe I should set my sights a little lower."

   The Voice didn't reply but Eric knew he had said something wrong.  He
could almost feel her disappointment.

   School that day was the same drag as usual.  Struggling to understand an
incompetent math teacher, and arguing with his computer studies teacher. 
There were a couple of bright spots in the day though.  The first was
history class.  Although Eric had some interest in history, this term's
classes had been excellent.  They had been studying the Angles, Saxons, and
Norsemen.  A bloodthirsty bunch the lot of them, but also capable of
producing exquisite jewellery.  In addition to this, history was one of the
two classes that he had where the object of his desires was placed in the
same room with him, so he could sit and admire her beauty.

   The second bright spot was his metalworking class.  Eric seemed to be
able to do no wrong when it came to working with metal.  It was almost as
if the metal understood what he wanted from it and tried to accommodate his
wishes.  This was especially true when using the forge.  Whilst his
classmates struggled to make simple fire pokers and the like, he was
producing items of astounding quality.  His metalwork teacher told him once
that he must be a re-incarnation of a master blacksmith.  It helped to no
end that he loved to work with the metals.

   His current project had almost not happened.  Eric had decided that he
wanted to make a sword.  Normally this would have been vetoed from the word
go but his teacher had spoken up on his behalf with the Headmaster and
gained special permission for him to make the weapon on the understanding
that it would be a dull edged version.  After much deliberation, he had a
basic idea of what he wanted the end result to look like.  The problem was,
he did not know where to start.  It would be a simple thing to make it out
of sheet steel but that did not feel right to Eric.  In the end it was the
Voice who gave him the instruction and the method to get started.

   Eric had begun his project some weeks ago.  He first started work on the
blade by plaiting three, half inch diameter steel bars together, two of
mild steel and one of a high carbon steel to add strength to the finished
item.  He wasn't overly happy with though this as it made the blade too
thin and a bit feminine for his taste, so he decided to see if he could
make it broader and heavier.  In the end, he fabricated three identical
blades and plaited the three together to form one heavy and complex plait.
In all, there were 9 different strands of steel now intricately woven
together to form the whole.  The blade was starting to take shape and he
thought he only had a few hours at the forge left before he could begin on
the rest of the sword.

   Eric pulled the blade from the coals and placed it on the anvil.  He
began to beat it with fast, heavy strokes of the hammer until the surface
of the metal lost its red glow and then placed it back into the coals. 
After he had repeated this hundreds more times, his desired shape was
almost complete.  In and out of the coals the metal went and down came the
hammer, time and time again.  By the time he was satisfied, he was sweating
freely, his arm and back muscles ached and he was thirsty.  He was also
startled to see that it was dark outside and that all of the other students
had left for the day.  It was almost 6.30 and school had been finished for
over 2 hours.  He had been working the metal for almost 3 straight hours.

   "Where the hell did the time go?" he thought to himself.

   "Time is of no consequence.  The sword is important.  But you know that
already don't you?" said the Voice.

   Eric couldn't explain it but he knew that the Voice was right.  The
sword was important but he did not know why that should be.  After all,
what possible use is a dull edged sword in the 21st century?

   His teacher, Mr Simpkins, told him that he had called his parents to let
them know he was still working at the school but promised to make sure he
was home by 7.30.  Mr Simpkins even gave Eric a lift for the 3 miles to his
home.

   Thankfully his father wasn't at home when he arrived.  His mother set a
single place at the table for him and set his dinner down.  She sat
opposite him and sighed.

   "Oh Eric, what are we going to do with you?  You and your father seem to
be growing more and more distant by the day.  Why can't you just listen to
us and do as you are told?"

   "It wouldn't make any difference mum.  If I did as I was told he would
move the goal posts again and find something else to have a go at me about.
Dad and I stopped getting along the day I was old enough to form my own
opinion about things.  Have you ever noticed that he is always right, even
when he is blatantly wrong?"

   "That's just your father's way dear." she said to him

   "Yeah I know, and I try not to wind him up but it's getting harder and
harder.  It's almost as if he wants to constantly fight with me.  I get
enough hassle at school but then I have to come home and put up with him
picking on me about every little thing that he has imagined I've done
wrong."

   "I didn't know you were having problems at school Eric.  Why don't you
ever tell us anything?"

   "What's the point?  You never listen, you are far too busy sticking up
for dad and pandering to Katie's every whim to worry about what I am up to.
The only time either of you take an interest in me is when you think I have
failed you in some way."

   "Eric, I..."

   "Listen mum, I am not going to get in to this with you now.  I will only
end up saying hurtful things, but for your information, I am depressed,
angry, lonely, deeply unhappy and I feel totally alone in the world.  I
hate myself, my life, my body, and unless you can use magic I can't see
what you will be able to do about it so lets just leave it there shall we?"

   "Eric, what on earth has suddenly brought this on?" his mum asked

   "There is no suddenly about it mum.  I have been feeling like this for
the past year but like I said, everyone is just too busy to worry about me.
Don't worry though, I am dealing with it but it would be nice if you could
get dad off my back sometimes.  Do you have any idea how little I look
forward to coming home each day?  And you wonder why I never want to get up
in the mornings."

   Before she had a chance to offer any kind of argument, Eric left the
kitchen, his dinner untouched, and went to his room.

   "Well Voice, I did warn her that I would say some hurtful things if she
pushed.  She is no doubt really mad at me now so I will get another earful
off dad when he gets in.  At least you never seem to judge me."

   "Oh, I spend all of my time judging and appraising you, you just rarely
do anything to greatly disappoint me."

   "Really?  I disappoint myself constantly."

   "That's because you can't see yourself through my eyes.  You have such a
pure spirit and kind heart, it is almost impossible for me to do anything
but love you."

   Eric's heart started to pound.  "What the hell is going on here?" he
thought.  "The Voice has never offered an opinion about me before."

   "Voice...?"

   "Yes?"

   "Do you have a name?"

   Eric heard in his mind a pretty laugh and started to get angry at
himself again

   "Of course you don't.  You are just a figment of my imagination. 
Perhaps I am insane."

   "Calm yourself Young One.  I am laughing with joy, not laughing at you.
You cannot believe just how long I have wanted you to ask that question. 
My name is Brianna and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

   Eric new she was telling the truth but was unsure how he knew.

   "Have I ever lied to you Eric?" Brianna asked again in his mind

   "What the hell are you doing in my head?  You have read every thought I
have ever had.  Or maybe I have never had a thought and they were all
yours. I always thought you were the Voice of my conscience or something
but now you tell me there is a girl living in my head?  GET OUT, GET OUT
AND DON'T COME BACK."

   "Eric, calm yourself Young One.  If you truly want me to leave I will do
so but first I need to tell you some things.  You are not insane.  You are
destined for greatness and when the time comes you will need to speak about
this to your grandmother.  She will be able to answer a lot of your
questions."

   "Yeah, Yeah, whatever.  Get out of my mind.  I trusted you only because
I thought you were a part of me.  I feel violated.  Get out."

   Eric felt a profound sadness within him and then suddenly it was gone.
Voice / Brianna had left him.  He sat on his bed and examined his feelings
about this, realizing that he had just lost the one constant companion he
had in his life and beginning to regret his haste.

   "Voice?"

   "Brianna?"

   "I'm sorry.  I was frightened and confused.  I didn't mean it, please
come back!"

   Nothing.  Eric lay on his bed and cried.  Great wracking sobs as he
realised that for the first time in his life he truly was alone.

   He awoke the following morning still in his clothes and with his mother
screaming from downstairs for him to get up.  He felt empty inside and
fervently wished he could turn the clock back and take back what he had
said to both his mother and Brianna.  He searched every corner of his mind
but could find no evidence of her there, or have ever having been there. 
She was gone.  Just like that, one moment of panic and temper and she was
gone.

   Nero, with his customary grace, barged in to the room and laid his head
in Eric's lap.  "At least you haven't abandoned me old friend." he said as
he stroked the dog and scratched behind his ears.  Nero just looked at him
with his usual sad expression on his face with his tail gently wagging.

   Eric got up.  Showered and dressed, he went down for breakfast.  His
father completely ignored him this morning, a sure sign that he had done
something wrong.  His mother was being polite in a curt sort of way and
Katie was looking smugly at him, but not saying anything.  He quickly ate
his cereal and left to go to the bus stop.

   "Hey Robin." Eric greeted his friend.

   "Watcha mate.  You all right?" Robin asked.

   "Same old story you know, parents acting like dicks again."

   Robin decided not to press his friend, figuring that if he wanted to
talk about it he would so he abruptly changed the subject.  "I've been
thinking about what we were talking about yesterday morning mate.  I reckon
you should ask Amanda Brown out."

   "Are you insane?  She's Susie's best friend, and the second best looking
girl in the school.  I can't wait to hear your reasoning on this one!" Eric
shot back

   "Well," said Robin, "Based on my extensive experience with girls, I
think that if you ask Amanda out and she says yes, Susie will get jealous
and want you for herself.  At worst, you get a girlfriend AND you get to
hang around with Susie so you can start working on getting her to like you"

   "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard of mate.  If she says no, I
will have her and Susie laughing at me and Susie will never want to go out
with me if her mate has turned me down.  If she says yes, Susie will never
want to go out with me as I will be one of her mates ex-boyfriends.  So
tell me again how this is a good plan?"

   "Hey, I didn't say it would be easy but I really think you should go for
it.  Rejection isn't that bad mate and I should know!"

   Eric laughed good naturedly at his friend.  One thing you could say
about Robin was that he went after what he wanted.  By Eric's last count,
Robin had been brushed off by at least 8 girls in the last 3 months.  His
affections seemed to change almost daily but he always asked the girl out.
Just by the law of averages, one of them had to say yes at some point. 
After all, if you throw enough shit at a blanket, some of it will stick.

   "I wouldn't know what to say to her." Eric said.

   "Oh, that's the easy bit, just walk up to her, tell her you fancy the
arse off her and tell her you are taking her to see a film on Saturday. 
That should do the trick.  Chicks are a sucker for a soppy movie."

   Eric didn't know what possessed him but he finally agreed to ask for the
date.  Robin was sceptical but he knew Eric didn't break his word.  Ever.
So he relaxed and told Eric he would meet him for lunch.

   Eric shared his first class of the day with Amanda.  As the class was
leaving, Eric put himself between Amanda and the door.  She was a little
startled but stopped in front of Eric, raised an eyebrow as if to say
"Well?"

   Eric decided that it was now or never.  He slowly raised his hand,
stroked her cheek, and looked into her eyes.  "Amanda, I fancy you like
crazy, will you let me take you to the film on Saturday?"

   "YOU?  With ...  ME?  I think you must have bumped your head or
something.  Why would I want to be seen out in public with you porky?  Get
out of my way or I will report you for sexual harassment!"

   With that she pushed past him and strode out of the room.  As he was
about to leave, he noticed that Amanda was still in the corridor, talking
to a couple of other girls.  One of whom was Susie Maddocks.

   "Oh joy of joys," thought Eric, "so much for keeping this one quiet."

   As he walked past, Amanda and some other girls started to snigger. 
Susie stood slightly away from her friends when she saw him coming, almost
as if she didn't want to be associated with the bitchiness.  A soft smile
played briefly across her mouth but he was too embarrassed to acknowledge
it and continued walking to his next class.

   Lunchtime found Eric and Robin sitting round the back of the school
greenhouses having a smoke.

   "I heard you took my advice today." Robin offered.

   "Already?  Christ that was quick.  I only asked her out this morning."

   "Well, you know what this place is like.  So what happened?"

   "Oh I got shot down in flames, crashed and burned.  Remind me to take
your advice on other things this important mate, you are the guru." Eric
said sarcastically.

   "Well at least you know now that Amanda won't go out with you so Susie
probably won't want to either now.  You can finally get on with your life
instead of wasting all your energy on a girl who wants nothing to do with
you."

   "You really know how to build me up don't you?" Eric replied with a
grin.

   "You know me mate, a kind word, some ancient wisdom and the world is put
to rights."

   When the bell rang signalling the start of the afternoon lessons, Eric
and Robin made their way over to the metalworking classroom.  Quite a few
of the kids they passed openly laughed at Eric and called him a loser. 
Eric's mood was dropping rapidly.

   Metalwork at least took his mind off things for a couple of hours.  As
he continued to work on his sword he realised that some of his clarity of
vision regarding the finished weapon was missing since Brianna had left.

   "Oh well, who needs some woman telling you how to make a sword anyway.
What the hell would she know!" he thought angrily.

   Once he began to concentrate on his task it occurred to him that
Brianna's vision for his sword was not exactly what he wanted anyway.  Her
idea would have been a much more feminine item.  This didn't feel right to
Eric so he began to re-heat the blade in the forge.  When the metal was hot
enough to allow him to work it, he began to pound it again.  The blade
needed to be slightly broader and just marginally longer.  He also decided
that as this was going to be a show piece, he should shape it some for
presentation so he began to work a slight pinch into the centre and a bit
more of a flare in the end.  By the time he was finished reshaping the
blade, today's lesson had finished.  He carefully wrapped his blade in an
old rag that had been lightly coated in oil and asked Mr Timpson to put it
somewhere safe for him.

   "Have you decided what you are going to do for the guard, pommel and
grip yet?" asked his teacher.

   "I have a couple of ideas but I am not sure how to go about making them.
I can see the finished thing in my head but every time I try to draw it, it
comes out wrong."

   "Just do what you usually do Eric, rough out the pieces and then work
your own magic into it." Mr.  Timpson said with a smile.

   "Yeah, I have thought about doing that but it doesn't feel quite right.
I suppose I will just make some temporary ones until the inspiration hits
me and I can make the ones I want."

   "Well try not to just slap any old thing on there Eric, it will ruin the
look of the whole piece." Mr.  Timpson unwrapped the sword blade from the
cloth and polished some of the patina that the forge had left behind.  The
blade seemed to have an odd pattern running through it, kind of a
herringbone effect.

   "Did you know this would happen Eric?" he asked, surprise evident in his
tone.

   "Kind of, but I wasn't sure what the finished effect would be."

   "This is fantastic you know.  Are you planning to make a scabbard for
it?"

   "To be honest, I hadn't thought that far ahead.  I was planning on just
making a display case for it."

   "It needs a scabbard Eric, if for no other reason than to stop you
cutting yourself on it when you take it home."

   "It's going to have a dull edge remember."

   "I know that is what we were told to do but it would be a sacrilege to
allow a blade like this to only reach half of its potential.  When the time
comes, assemble it, I will show it to the other teachers and when they have
finished oh'ing and ah'ing over it, I will show you how to harden and
temper the blade to get the best edge on it.  BUT only if you make a
scabbard for it."

   Eric was stunned.  He had thought to sharpen the sword once he got it
home.  He knew it would be a long and slow process just using a file but
couldn't really see any other way to do it.

   "I wouldn't have the first clue how to make a scabbard.  I know they are
generally made of leather or wood but how do you make one?" Eric asked.

   "If it's going to be that much of a problem, I may be able to help
there. I know a guy at a smithy who makes a lot of weapons for a historical
re-enactment society, you know the blokes who fight the mock battles at
weekends?  Well, if I take him an outline sketch of the blade he should be
able to have one of his team knock something up for you but you may have to
pay for it."

   "That would be great sir, could you please find out how much it will
cost beforehand though?  I don't have much money and I am not sure that my
parents would pay for something like that."

   "I am sure they will if I tell them that this is one of the finest
pieces of work I have ever seen a pupil produce, and explain that it really
needs this scabbard to finish it off.  This will have to be our little
secret though Eric, I could get into a lot of trouble with the Headmaster
if he realised that I had gone against his wishes.  Not to mention the fact
I will have let a pupil manufacture an offensive weapon while in school!"

   "No problem Sir, I won't tell if you don't." Eric replied with a smile.

   After he left class, he found Robin waiting for him.  "Why don't you ask
Jenny Blackstock out?  She is always flirting with you and she is supposed
to be pretty easy." said Robin by way of greeting.

   "Hey, she is not easy and she is a friend so lay off with the comments
like that will you?  Anyway I would only get rejected again, or worse, have
her say yes and then have to deal with that Kung Fu loving Neanderthal that
she calls a boyfriend.  I think I would rather be single mate." Eric
offered.

   "Just because he's left school, 19 and an expert at Kung Fu doesn't mean
you can't ask Jenny out.  She would never tell him about you even if she
did say no."

   "Well, that's food for thought but I doubt I will risk a broken back for
a girl who may or may not want to have more to do with me."

   Eric thought about what Robin had said on the bus on the way home from
school.  Jenny was sat a couple of rows ahead of him on the bus and he eyed
her critically.  She had a knockout figure, even for a girl 5 or 6 years
her senior, pretty face with light brown, almond shaped eyes and shortish
spiky hair.  Almost perfect infact apart form an awful, screeching laugh
like a howler monkey.  It was true that she often flirted with him but Eric
was fairly sure that she was just pulling his chain and trying to get a
rise out of him (in more ways than one) and it normally worked (in more
ways than one!) He remembered a few nights back.  Jenny had been wearing a
very short mini skirt showing off her fabulous legs.  She had been sitting
opposite him when she started telling Eric about waxing her legs and bikini
line.  Eric was having trouble concentrating on her words as he could not
take his eyes off of her legs.  When she reached across, took his hand and
rubbed it up and down her thigh a couple of times saying "Feel how smooth
they are." he nearly shot his bolt.

   Her boyfriend, Anthony just glared at him.

   "Oh just ignore Tony, he pretends that he is jealous but he really
couldn't give a toss about me.  Most days he lets me walk home in the dark
alone unless he thinks he is going to get something.  Tell you what, why
don't you walk me home tonight?  Once I have said goodbye to Tony I will
wait for you by the big oak tree and you can keep me company all the way
home." She said with a sexy smile and a wink.

   Even though Jenny lived about two miles in the wrong direction, Eric
readily agreed.  He left Jenny and her boyfriend and went to wait by the
oak tree.  He waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  Once it became
apparent that she was not coming, he dejectedly went home alone.

   The next day, Jenny had apologised to him saying that Anthony had
decided to walk her home.

   As Eric mused over this on the bus he was still unsure if she was
genuinely trying to get some time alone with him or just being the world's
biggest tease.

   The following day in Metalwork, Mr Timpson called Eric over to his desk.
"I went and spoke to my friend last night.  I mentioned our little project
and gave him the outline drawing that I did.  He is very impressed with
your work, and would like to meet you after school today if you can manage
it since he wants to see the actual blade.  If I give you a lift we can
take the blade without you attracting any unwanted attention to it.  We
can't have you walking the streets with a three foot blade in your hand
after all.  He will still be busy at the smithy but that should be ok and
you will be able to see a real production forge at work.  Can you come this
evening?"

   "Yeah, no problem sir.  I don't really have to be home until about seven
anyway.  I'll call my mum at lunch time and let her know that I am going on
a 'Field Trip' to an engineering factory.  That should do the trick."

   "Excellent, I will meet you outside this classroom at close of play
today then.  See if you can polish that blade to bring out the pattern a
bit more before you take it over there."

   So Eric did.  He ended up working through most of his lunch hour leaving
just enough time to call his mother and explain why he would be late home
but the results were worth it.  The blade had a beautiful shine that showed
the herringbone effect off a treat.  He had even managed to shape it, just
hinting at an edge and had also ground a central groove down the centre on
both sides of the blade.

   Eric was quite excited about visiting the smithy and seeing first hand
how the professionals did it and was smiling to himself as he walked to
class after lunch.

   "ERIC!  Wait up mate!" Robin called as he came running up to him. 
"Where were you at lunch?"

   "Oh I was working in the metalwork room trying to get some more done on
my sword, it's starting to look pretty good now."

   "Well I suggest you hurry up and finish it mate, I think you are going
to need it.  My brother Martin is mates with one of Jenny's boyfriend's
mates and from what I have heard you may be in for a bit of trouble. 
Apparently Anthony didn't take kindly to you rubbing his girlfriend's
thighs the other night and he saw you waiting for her by the big oak.  He
says he is going to teach you to keep away from what doesn't belong to
you."

   "Shit, what the hell am I going to do?  The last bloke he decided to
teach a lesson ended up getting his jaw wired back together!"

   "I know mate, I just thought I would warn you to stay the fuck out of
his way."

   "Thanks Rob, that defiantly sounds like a plan.  Christ I didn't even do
anything, she grabbed my hand and pulled it up and down her leg."

   "Were you waiting for her by the oak though?"

   "Yeah, she asked me to walk her home 'cos Anthony never bothers and she
has to walk about two miles in the dark alone."

   "Well, Tony is gunning for you mate.  I suggest you forget what I said
about asking her out and stay as far from her as is humanly possible."

   "That also sounds like a good plan.  Jenny will be a bit pissed at me
though unless I tell her why."

   "Well, I would rather have Jenny pissed at me than her boyfriend mate so
just be careful will ya?"

   "You'd better believe it.  I'm gonna be more careful than a big careful
thing in careful land carrying a box of eggs!"

   "What the hell am I going to do.  That bloke is seriously frightening. I
know a few moves but he is going to kick the shit out of me and there is
nothing I can do about it.  I almost wish I didn't now about it, at least I
wouldn't be worrying about it now." Eric thought to himself.

   After classes were finished, Eric walked back to the metalwork class to
meet with Mr.  Timpson.  As he looked across the tennis courts towards the
car park he could see Jenny's boyfriend Anthony and a couple of his mates
leaning against their motorbikes while glaring at him.  He upped his pace
and quickly went to find Mr.  Timpson.

   As promised, Mr.  Timpson gave Eric a lift to his friend's smithy.  When
they arrived, Mr.  Timpson began the introductions.

   "Eric, this is my friend Wally Goodrich.  Wally, this is Eric Faye. 
Eric, why don't you show Wally your blade?"

   Eric carefully unwrapped the blade and passed it to Wally for his
appraisal.  Wally let out a low whistle.  "You really made this Eric?" he
asked.

   "Er, yeah, I guess." said Eric, slightly embarrassed.

   "This is a truly outstanding piece of work.  Can I ask how you got the
pattern?  Is it etched on?"

   "No the blade is made from nine separate bars of steel.  I plaited three
of them together then plaited the three completed plaits together."

   "Really, I've heard about this method but have never seen it done.  It's
spectacular." Wally stated.

   "You've heard of this before?  I thought it was my idea.  I had no idea
that it was a recognised method of making a blade."

   "Oh yes," Wally said with a smile, "most of the swords of Norse legend
were supposed to have been made this way.  Some believe that the method is
even older than that though and was passed to the Norsemen by the gods
themselves.  Here in Britain the stories are based more on the "Fair Folk"
though, you know, elves, pixies, fairies that type of thing."

   Eric couldn't decide if Wally was winding him up with these tales but
decided to ignore it for the moment.

   "Would you like to have a quick look around the factory Eric?  Mr. 
Timpson says you are quite the metalworker but mostly enjoy the forge.  Let
me show you some of the things we make here."

   As they began to walk round the factory, Eric was in heaven.  All this
metal, all these tools, all this machinery.  His mind was working overtime
imagining the possibilities if he had access to these facilities.  As they
approached the forge area, Eric was a little surprised to see that it was
very similar to the one he used in school.  Slightly larger in area, and
there were four of them in a row instead of just one, but other than that
it appeared to be the same.  A considerably larger selection of tools to
work the metal and a whole selection of chisels that they didn't have at
school were hanging nearby, but Eric was sure that he could figure out
their uses in a heartbeat given the chance.

   Working at the forge was a huge bear of a man, seemingly built out of
pure muscle but with a large barrel of a belly.  He was just finishing off
a short blade that Eric thought looked like a Roman soldier's sword.

   Wally introduced Eric to the Smith.  "Eric, this is Thomas our head
smith.  Feel free to ask him any questions.  If you wouldn't mind waiting
here a few minutes, I need to talk to Mr.  Timpson for a while but will be
back shortly." With that, he handed Eric his sword, once again wrapped in
the rag and he and Mr.  Timpson departed.

   "What you got there then boy?" asked Thomas.

   "My school metalwork project.  I am making a sword.  My teacher knows
Wally and said I should bring it here to see if anyone could make a
scabbard for it."

   "May I see it?" asked Thomas.

   Eric just nodded and handed the cloth wrapped blade to the large man.

   Once Thomas had unwrapped the blade he looked at it and then back at
Eric.  Then he spent a long time looking at the blade, holding it up to the
light and looking down its length, checking the balance point, making
experimental slashing cuts and thrusts before finally laying it down on the
nearest workbench on top of its cloth.

   "That there is a fine piece of work Young One."

   Eric's head snapped around at being called "Young One".  Only Brianna
had ever called him that.

   Thomas noticed Eric's reaction and turned away to smile to himself.

   "Is that a plaited blade?" Thomas inquired

   "Yes, how did you know?" replied Eric

   "Well, there are only a couple of ways to get that sort of pattern in
the blade.  It can be etched in of course but this is just too subtle for
that.  You really have made a good job of this you know.  I have spent most
of my adult life trying to make a blade as fine as this using the plait
method but the patterning never seems to be completely regular like you
have managed with yours.  You should be very proud of your self Young One."

   Again, Eric was startled enough to snap his head round to look at the
huge Smith.

   "Something wrong, Young One?" Thomas asked him

   "Sorry, no.  It's just that I have only ever known one other person to
call me that.  Well at least they used too.  I don't think they are talking
to me now."

   Thomas looked a little saddened by this news.  "What makes you say that
lad?"

   "Well, I kind of told them to go away and leave me alone." Eric replied
in a small voice.

   "And they did?" Thomas asked the surprise evident in his voice.

   "Well I haven't heard from her in a few days so I guess so yeah."

   Eric heard his name being called from across the workshop so he wrapped
up the blade and went over to meet with Wally and Mr.  Timpson.  They led
him out of the main factory and into what he assumed must be the conference
room.  On the table was a leather scabbard.  It was dyed black as night and
inlaid with silver filigree in a strange pattern that looked almost like
writing.  It was truly beautiful and the craftsmanship was amazing.

   Wally picked up the scabbard and handed it to Eric.  "There you go, this
should keep that fabulous blade of yours in good order."

   Eric was stunned.  "Th..Thank you, its beautiful!" was all he managed to
say.

   "Have you got any more designs like that locked away in that head of
yours?" asked Wally.

   "I suppose, I have never really thought about it." he replied.

   "Well, if you have, you can come here after school or on Saturdays and
make them if you like.  I am always on the lookout for new ideas for the
weapons range that we make."

   "I'm not sure I would want them to be mass produced.  I think it would
be unfair to the original somehow.  Thanks all the same Wally."

   "No No, you misunderstand Eric, not everything we make here is the cheap
replica stuff that we churn out for the re-enactment crowd.  We also make
limited editions and one-offs for our more discerning customers.  I would
like for you to come here and make me some of your blades.  Our design team
would handle the accessories as they have done for your scabbard.  Some of
our unique items sell for a lot of money Eric, and I would be quite happy
to pay you for your efforts.  How does ?200 per blade sound with 30% of the
profit from the sale as a bonus if and when they sell?"

   "It sounds too good to be true!" gasped Eric.  "How much would you sell
something like this for?"

   "I could easily get ?2000 or ?3000 for something like that so you could
expect to get at least ?600 as a bonus."

   Eric was astounded.  He had no idea that anyone would pay that much for
his work.

   "You realise that this one is not for sale though Wally?"

   "Oh yes.  I wish it were but I do understand.  It's your first.  We
always let new employees here keep their first one as well.  Anyway, my
secretary is writing a letter to your parents as we speak, explaining my
offer to you.  All you need to do is get them to sign the permission slip
and then you can drop in any time after school and any Saturday you feel
like."

   "What, I get to choose when to work?"

   "Of course.  I am only paying you for completed items so it's up to you
how many you make and how often.  It would be quite easy for you to produce
two or three blades a week here though.  Remember, you won't have to worry
about cleaning it, polishing it, sharpening it.  That will all be done by
the relevant stations round the workshop.  You are more than welcome to do
it yourself, but to be honest the guys I have working here are about the
best in the business so you can trust them to do a job worthy of your work.
Equally though, if you only want to make two or three per year, that's fine
too."

   Eric picked up his blade and offered it up to his new scabbard.  It
looked like a perfect fit.  He pushed the sword in and it glided home with
barely a whisper of steel on leather.  A perfect fit.

   As they were waiting for the secretary to bring in the letter of consent
Thomas came into the room with a small suede bound bundle and gave it to
Eric.

   "What's this?"

   "Just a little something I have had for a while but never found a use
for." said Thomas.  "Thought you might like it."

   Eric lay the package on the table and unwrapped the suede cover.  Inside
lay 3 pieces of metal.  He immediately recognised them for what they were.
The first piece was a circular affair.  Gold in colour and set with a
strange blue stone in the centre.  The second was shaped like an elongated
barrel with an odd shaped hole from end to end and bound in gold wire.  The
last was shaped like a squashed X.  Again this was bound with gold wire and
had more of the blue stones inlaid.  It was a pommel, handle and guard for
a sword.

   "They're exactly what I had in mind, only I didn't exactly know what I
had in mind.  What I mean is ...  Oh I don't know what I mean.  Thank you.
Thank you very much."

   "Would you like me to fit them for you now?" asked Thomas

   "Yes please."

   "Come on then, let's get to work."

   They walked back to Thomas' forge and he took the sword from Eric.  The
guard went on first, then the handle and then the pommel.  They were a
perfect fit.

   "How did you know it would fit Thomas?"

   "Ah, the blade told me." he said enigmatically.

   Once the sword was assembled, Thomas gave Eric a large copper headed
hammer.

   "Lay it flat on the anvil and hit the centre of the blue crystal in the
pommel, once, as hard as you can."

   "Surely that will smash the crystal!"

   "Just trust me and do it."

   So he did.  He brought the hammer down from above his head with all of
his might and hit the stone dead centre.  At first he thought he had broken
the crystal as there appeared to be a blue glow travel from the stone down
the length of the sword but when he looked it was still in one piece so he
decided it must have caught the reflection from the overhead lights.  He
picked up the sword and tested the handle.  It was as solid as a rock and
could not be removed.

   Thomas just stood there with a look of total satisfaction on his face.

   "No questions just now Young One, I will tell you everything I can but
not until you know the time is right to ask the questions."

   "How will I know when that is?"

   "You will know.  You will definitely know." With that he started to walk
away.  "Oh, just watch the edge on that thing, it will be pretty sharp." he
said over his shoulder as he walked off.

   When Eric inspected the blade it appeared to be finely honed.  He very
gingerly touched the edge with his thumb and pulled his hand back with a
gasp.  The blade had bitten deep into his flesh on the pad of his thumb and
had left an oily black stain on the blade.

   "When the hell did he sharpen it, It hasn't left my sight since we
arrived?" he thought.

   Wally and Mr.  Timpson came over to him then and handed him the letter
of consent.  "I really hope your parents will sign that Eric," said Wally,
"I can't wait to see what else you can produce."

   They said their goodbyes and Mr Timpson gave Eric a lift to his house.
As he was getting out of the car he noticed Anthony and his two mates sat
on their bikes a couple of houses further down the street.  Again, they
appeared to be glaring at him menacingly so he hurried indoors.

   When he went into the house, something didn't feel right.  It took him a
couple of seconds to realise what it was.  For the first time in the six
years they had had him, his dog Nero didn't come bounding in to greet him.

   Eric was about to call him when his mum came in from the kitchen.  She
looked as though she had been crying.

   "Eric, sit down love.  I need to talk to you."

   He sat down and waited to hear what she had to say with a growing sense
of apprehension

   "Eric, a couple of hours ago someone opened the back gate and Nero ran
out.  He was chasing them but they ran across the road.  Nero was run over.
Your dad took him to the veterinarian but he was too badly injured.  Eric,
I am so sorry, but the vet had to put him to sleep."

   Eric couldn't believe his ears.  Nero, his constant and favourite
companion was gone.  For six years he had been Eric's best friend, shoulder
to cry on and play mate to wrestle with.

   Without a word, tears pouring down his face, Eric got up and left the
house.  He wandered for what seemed like hours until he found himself at
the park where he used to walk Nero everyday.  He sat with his back to a
tree and sobbed his heart out.

   After a time, his sobs died off and his tears ran out.  He sat under the
tree feeling worse than he ever had in his life.  Dark thoughts were
running through his head.

   "First I can't get up the courage to ask out the girl of my dreams so I
chicken out and ask her friend.  I get shot down in flames and am now the
laughing stock of the school.  Then the Voice / Brianna leaves me because I
was angry and stupid and took it out on her.  Then I find out that Anthony
wants to put me in hospital and now Nero is gone.  My life is just not
worth living."

   With that he got up and headed back across the park towards his home.

   When he was most of the way across the park, he heard the sound of
motorbikes coming his way.  Three of them roared up to him and began to
circle him.  Each of the riders waving their legs as if trying to kick him
as they rode round.  Eric knew it was Anthony and his buddies and was
terrified.  So frightened in fact that he actually began to wet his
trousers.  The bikes stopped and the riders got off.  Anthony removed his
helmet and smirked at him.

   "Well, well, look who it is.  It's the little twat who thinks he can rub
my girlfriends' thighs.  The same little twat that snuck off so he could
walk her home without me knowing about it."

   Anthony's friends just sniggered

   Eric was desperately looking for an escape route but he realised that
there was nowhere to go.  He was too over weight to out run them and even
if he could they had motorbikes and would easily run him down

   Anthony had obviously had enough of talking because he walked up to Eric
and punched him in the eye.  Eric saw a blinding white light and then stars
before his eyes.

   "Anthony, I didn't do..."

   "Shut the fuck up you little queer.  I do the talking here.  You stay
the fuck away from Jenny or I'll kill you.  Just like we did to your stupid
fucking dog tonight.  You should have heard him howling, whimpering and
crying as he lay in the road trying to crawl home.  It was one of the
funniest things I have ever seen."

   Eric lost it.  "YOU MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A..."

   He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence.  A rain of blows,
punches, kicks, elbows and knees arrived.  It seemed to last forever until
eventually he was knocked unconscious by one particularly vicious kick to
the head.

   When he came round he was in pain, covered in grass and mud.  He
appeared to be bleeding from everywhere.  His eyes would barely open and he
could not move his jaw.  His ribs hurt like hell and he suspected that they
were broken.  He got onto his hands and knees and vomited then collapsed
down in a heap and began to cry.

   When he finally made it home it was well after midnight.  He didn't have
his key so he was forced to knock on the door to get someone to let him in.
His dad came to the door.  "Where the Hell have you......Jesus, what the
hell happened?  Quick come in and sit down." his father's anger dissipating
rapidly once he saw the state of his son.

   "Leave me alone, I am going to bed." replied Eric and went straight up
stairs.

   He sat at his desk and tried to get undressed.  Every movement cost him
and the price was pain.  Looking round the room, he spotted his sword laid
on his bed.  His mother had obviously put it there after he left it in the
living room when she had told him about Nero.

   He went over and retrieved it.  As he pulled it from the scabbard the
blue glow that he had seen at the forge seemed to once again caress the
length of the blade.

   As he held the sword before him, he had a moment of pure clarity.  This
is all my life is.  One upset, followed by another.  I may as well end it
now.

   He lined the blade up with his wrist and was about to draw it back and
slice into the veins.

   "Young One, if you are intent on doing this, why prolong the agony? 
Your heart is broken and can feel no further pain, just place the swords
tip in the centre of your chest and pull.  It will be over before you know
it."

   Eric was too far gone to realise that it was Brianna talking in his head
so he just did as he was instructed.

   He lined the tip up with his heart, grabbed each side of the guard and
pulled with all of his strength until the guard was hard against his chest
and the tip of the blade was 2 feet behind him.

   He sunk to his knees and pulled the sword out again, noticing an oily
black stain that appeared along the length of the blade where his blood had
touched it.  There was one tiny spot near the guard that had no blood on it
and Eric's dying mind decided that this would not do.  Dipping his finger
into the new hole in his chest and coated it with blood, he then touched
his finger to the clean spot on the blade and allowed the blood to drip.

   Pain!  All encompassing, all consuming abject, screaming agony.  His
body felt as though it was on fire.  His skin felt as if it was being
flayed from his body, every muscle spasmed in the worst kind of cramp,
bones aching as if they were shattered beyond repair.  He was convinced he
could feel his blood beginning to boil and his organs start to liquefy. 
His entire being felt like one big toothache.  It didn't matter what he did
to try to relieve himself of it, it just seemed to increase in intensity
almost exponentially.  His last cognitive thought before he passed to
blessed oblivion was "I thought this was supposed to be painless!"



   To be continued.