World Wide Warrior 6
The following morning, breakfast smells wafted
All through the Silversmith house.
Braden’s bruised and broken body stirred,
And he twitched his nose like a mouse.
Ham and egg, potatoes and cheese.
Yes. He was ready for this.
He pulled his long hair out of his face.
He stood up and nearly missed.
His legs wobbled under him as he went downstairs,
His body craving carbs and protein.
He sat down at the table and thought to himself,
“I’m so hungry, I might just scream.”
Luckily for Braden, He didn’t have to.
Rayen brought a dish right in.
It had wonderful thick pieces of bacon in it,
And cheese and eggs within.
Braden: “Breakfast casserole.” Braden beamed with contentment
“I am so ready for food!”
Rayen: “Wait. Not yet.” Rayen set the dish down.
“Don’t be so hasty and rude.”
Braden frowned for just a moment,
But then Rayen produced a black blade.
He didn’t see where she got it from,
But his stomach rumblings were grave.
Braden: “Is that a tomahawk?” He asked with a smile.
“You know it’s not my birthday yet.”
Rayen: “I know, Braden. I’m giving it to you now because-
If I don’t, it’ll get lost in a minute!
Every year it’s the same story.
You go out with all of your friends.”
Braden: “Well thanks for the tomahawk, Grandma.”
Then he asked for breakfast again.
Rayen: “Would you wait just a few seconds!
This isn’t an ordinary hatchet!
It’s been passed down through our family,
And has a story attached to it.”
Braden relented and sat back to listen,
But his mind within him said:
“By the time she finishes this family story,
Jonathan will be awake and I’ll be dead.”
Rayen: “A long time ago in Georgia,
Before it was called a state,
Our Cherokee Ancestor ruled Standing Peachtree,
And he was a Chief that was great.
Degataga was his name.
He led his people well.
And he especially kept his countrymen safe,
From black magic, powers, and spells.
Once there was a sinful witch,
Harbingella by name,
Who happened across Degataga’s Braves-
Who arrested her for her shame.
They brought her before the Chief,
And she begged for her life.
And even though she bribed the Chief,
Her heart still clung to spite.”
Harbingella: “Chief Degataga,”
She quaintly cooed,
“Please forgive me of my magics, rude.
I am but a poor wretched soul,
But I have a gift that is worthy of your role.
If you will accept this, Promise, will I-
To leave this forest forever,
And never again on you spy.”
The Chief thought through for a minute or two,
All the witch had to say.
It’s true her power had waned a lot,
And mercy was his heart’s way.
He agreed to the gift and she thanked him well,
With a new tomahawk, and a magic spell.
But nearly a week later,
Harbingella was found again,
And nothing could stop Degataga’s Braves,
Or the many men-
Who came from all over the world to end,
The Witch Queen Harbingella,
And all their fury spend.
Harbingella was sealed away,
But the tomahawk remains.
It has been passed from first-born to first-born.
And here it passes again.
It was passed from my mother Salali
To your Uncle Nahari.
He died in Vietnam,
And so it passed to me.
I passed it to your father,
But Jengo’s lost or gone.
Now it passes to you Braden,
My eldest and only Grandson.”
Rayen saw the quizzical look,
Forming in Braden’s eyes.
She took the blade from off the table,
And smiled in a way that was wry.
She grabbed a fork from off the table,
And crossed the tomahawk’s shaft,
With the handle of the fork,
And she spoke two words of craft.
Rayen: “Fork. Mutatio.” Was all she need say,
And the tomahawk turned into a fork right away.
It was black like before,
With a little blue stripe,
Not just like the silver fork
But black as darkest night.
Rayen pulled the forks apart,
And said one word again.
Rayen: “Mutatio.” She said in a clear voice.
And the fork-form met its end.
The black tomahawk with pale blue stripe,
Braden saw suddenly in another light.
Rayen held it out, And Braden took it in hand.
Braden: “This is unbelievable.”
Rayen: “Treasure it.”
Braden: “Yes Ma’am.
I’d never dream of pawning this for cash.”
Rayen: “The name of the tomahawk is Shadowlash.
And whenever you would want to have a fork again,
Hold it in your hand, and speak these words Braden,
Fork, then Mutatio. It needn’t be crossed.
The tomahawk stores that information,
For whenever you’re lost.
You can copy any inanimate object,
That you can hold in your hands.
And call it back at any time.”
Braden: “Thank you so much, Ma’am.
So I cross it with whatever I want to copy,
And name it, and tell it to change.
That’s what mutatio means, right?”
Rayen: “You’ve got it.”
Braden: “Wow. This is strange.”
He put the tomahawk on the table,
And the two of them embraced.
Then Rayen began to serve Braden.
With a smile and with grace.
Meanwhile a sleepy-headed Jonathan,
Zombie-walked down the stairs,
His head a tangle of interwoven locks,
Braden: “Dude, Nice hair.”
Hi I’m Joshua, and I’m resurrecting Epic Poetry for modern nerds like you! Come join me at JoshuaDavidLing.com or just about anywhere on social media!
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