Read Online Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) by Scott Appleton - Free Book Online
Authors: Scott Appleton
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the shepherd pointed at the cave with his staff. “The greatest things in life, the most praiseworthy, are often the things we take for granted. And your heart will surely harden if it is continuously and only fed war and suffering.”
Specter took a step toward the cave opening. Water dripped somewhere inside. When he took another step and squinted, mist rose from the dark interior, and a dim glow spread over the stone floor and walls, filling it. A woman emerged from the mist, coalescing in a manner that made him shudder. The Grim Reaper had formed out of night shadows in the same way. But the woman who stood before him wore a velvety gown of sun-yellow. Her green eyes sparkled as she held out her hand for his.
He glanced at Patient and the shepherd nodded.
As he slipped his only hand into hers and felt the smooth, soft contours of her fingers, she gazed up at him. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he tried to pull back. But her hand gripped him with animal strength, and she beckoned at the cave. “Come and observe the manner of your life. Come and partake of wisdom. Stay with me; hold on to me. Once you let go, you will fail and you will fall. Stay with me, for I am Wisdom, and I will teach you what you must know.”
Into the rising mist she pulled him. Out of the sunlight into the cave’s dim glow he stepped. The mist clung to him, lying warm upon his skin. He didn’t dare utter a sound. The woman led him a hundred feet into the cave. Its walls rose far above him. His foot slipped on the wet gently sloping floor. He widened his stance to keep his footing, and the woman halted. She stood in his way and gazed around them. “My path is slippery, and it is easy to fall. With every step you take forward your feet threaten to slip from under you. You must walk with care to keep from hurtling past me. Once you fall, once you lose your grip on Wisdom, I am hard to find again. But consider the steps you would take before you take them. See where your path leads. For those who hold my hand cannot fall.”
Ahead of them there appeared a man kneeling on the floor. In his hands he held a sponge, and he swept it over the wet stone floor. At first the sponge soaked up the moisture, and the man smiled as he shifted his knees to the dry floor. He looked around at the rest of the floor and his smile faded. Inches at a time he sponged the floor, but with every spot he dried, his sponge grew wetter. He wrung out the sponge, but it needed a thorough drying. The man furrowed his brow, continued his work.
Specter looked down at Wisdom. She released her hold on his hand and swept toward the man on the floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Sir, come away with me.” The man shrugged her hand off and continued to sponge the floor. But the sponge, soaked as it was, spread the water rather than drying it.
Wisdom stood and held her skirt off the floor as she stepped up to Specter. A tear rolled down her cheek. She took his hand and walked past the man, deeper into the cave.
Specter glanced at the fellow on the floor and shook his head. What a waste of the man’s efforts. He shook his head. If this was for his own benefit—a lesson, a riddle, or an analogy—the meaning escaped him.
Not fifty feet beyond the first, a second man appeared. He also knelt on the wet floor and sponged it. After watching him wring out his sponge for the fifth time, Specter sighed. The man was a fool, though Specter had to admire his persistence. Both of the men were fools. What a waste of their efforts.
At that moment the man turned his face toward Specter. With a start, Specter recognized that the man on the floor was himself. Slipping and sliding, he raced back to the first man. The man was bent low to the floor, sponging away. Specter dropped in front of him, grabbed his hair, and jerked his face upward. Again his own face returned his stare. Yet the man’s frowning visage revealed no hint of recognition.
“What is going on here? Who are you?” He
Specter took a step toward the cave opening. Water dripped somewhere inside. When he took another step and squinted, mist rose from the dark interior, and a dim glow spread over the stone floor and walls, filling it. A woman emerged from the mist, coalescing in a manner that made him shudder. The Grim Reaper had formed out of night shadows in the same way. But the woman who stood before him wore a velvety gown of sun-yellow. Her green eyes sparkled as she held out her hand for his.
He glanced at Patient and the shepherd nodded.
As he slipped his only hand into hers and felt the smooth, soft contours of her fingers, she gazed up at him. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he tried to pull back. But her hand gripped him with animal strength, and she beckoned at the cave. “Come and observe the manner of your life. Come and partake of wisdom. Stay with me; hold on to me. Once you let go, you will fail and you will fall. Stay with me, for I am Wisdom, and I will teach you what you must know.”
Into the rising mist she pulled him. Out of the sunlight into the cave’s dim glow he stepped. The mist clung to him, lying warm upon his skin. He didn’t dare utter a sound. The woman led him a hundred feet into the cave. Its walls rose far above him. His foot slipped on the wet gently sloping floor. He widened his stance to keep his footing, and the woman halted. She stood in his way and gazed around them. “My path is slippery, and it is easy to fall. With every step you take forward your feet threaten to slip from under you. You must walk with care to keep from hurtling past me. Once you fall, once you lose your grip on Wisdom, I am hard to find again. But consider the steps you would take before you take them. See where your path leads. For those who hold my hand cannot fall.”
Ahead of them there appeared a man kneeling on the floor. In his hands he held a sponge, and he swept it over the wet stone floor. At first the sponge soaked up the moisture, and the man smiled as he shifted his knees to the dry floor. He looked around at the rest of the floor and his smile faded. Inches at a time he sponged the floor, but with every spot he dried, his sponge grew wetter. He wrung out the sponge, but it needed a thorough drying. The man furrowed his brow, continued his work.
Specter looked down at Wisdom. She released her hold on his hand and swept toward the man on the floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Sir, come away with me.” The man shrugged her hand off and continued to sponge the floor. But the sponge, soaked as it was, spread the water rather than drying it.
Wisdom stood and held her skirt off the floor as she stepped up to Specter. A tear rolled down her cheek. She took his hand and walked past the man, deeper into the cave.
Specter glanced at the fellow on the floor and shook his head. What a waste of the man’s efforts. He shook his head. If this was for his own benefit—a lesson, a riddle, or an analogy—the meaning escaped him.
Not fifty feet beyond the first, a second man appeared. He also knelt on the wet floor and sponged it. After watching him wring out his sponge for the fifth time, Specter sighed. The man was a fool, though Specter had to admire his persistence. Both of the men were fools. What a waste of their efforts.
At that moment the man turned his face toward Specter. With a start, Specter recognized that the man on the floor was himself. Slipping and sliding, he raced back to the first man. The man was bent low to the floor, sponging away. Specter dropped in front of him, grabbed his hair, and jerked his face upward. Again his own face returned his stare. Yet the man’s frowning visage revealed no hint of recognition.
“What is going on here? Who are you?” He
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