The Holy Sword part 2

*warning: Everything you read here are works of fiction

                He said his thanks and proceed to examine the place he had jumped into. The place was barely taller than himself and the walls filled with moss. Drips of water drops from the ceiling of the semi circular waterways while rats and other critters scour the floor where it was not flooded.

                Hameed gulped. It was a simple job all right, but not when you're musophobic. He closed his eyes and blocked any squeaking sound of the mice around him. "I can do this" he said to himself. Once he regained his composure, Hameed steps into the darkness, guided only by the small orange flame dancing above the container he held in his hand.

                Hameed produced the small leather bounded book again and held it close to the orange flame dancing above his hand. He pulled it closer to his face and then turned towards the darkness in front of him. "It should be at the end of this tunnel" he said. He closed the book again and trudged on, hoping it had lead him to the right place.

                It wasn't until half of his robe drenched in rat feces smelled water that Hameed finally came to face what he had been looking for. A wooden door stood in front of him. Strong metal bolts punched through the side of the wall, holding the large metal hinges. A large lock sat on the other end of the door, rusted. Hameed flipped the pages on the small book again and looked back to the door. A large symbol of two sword crossed at the blades were etched to the door.

                "This should be it" said Hameed. He replaced the book back into the his pocket and climbed the steps toward the door.

                Hameed ran his fingers on the symbol, pushing years of dusts from its thick oaken skin. He gave it a light push but the door pushed back with a clank. "Great, it's locked" he scratched his head. Hameed lined his shoulder with the door's lock and took a step back. He tightened his arm muscles and with a hard push, slammed his shoulder on the door. The door banged, and nothing happened.

                "Damn" Hameed rubbed his shoulder. He spins his arm around and cracked his neck. He scanned the door again for cracks or holes he could use as leverage. "Nothing, great" he slumps his shoulder. Hameed took a few steps backwards and with all his might, he kicked the metal lock on the door. The door banged, but still,  nothing happened. "I hate locked doors" he said.

                Hameed pulled out the book again and flipped through its pages, hoping to find some clue on how to open the door. A diagram showing the door and a curved arrow at the hinge of the door made him frown. "Don't tell me" he placed his hand on the hinged end of the door and gave it a push.

                The door squeak and opened itself like a charm.

                Hameed slapped his forehead.

                "Stupid trick door" he said and went inside.

                The door opens up a long passageway, barely enough to fit Hameed's figure. Gusts of winds, like the touch of a soft satin brushed his cheeks and irritate the flame on his container. The smell of moss and rat feces had miraculously gone once the door behind him closed. Undeterred,  he held a hand in front of the flame and made his way deeper into the passageway.

                Hameed looked back to the dark passageway behind him. He had been walking for quite a while but the passage seems almost unending. He took several more steps forward when a door showed up in front of him bearing the same symbol of the crossed sword. He gulped. "This is the place then" he said and placed his hand on the door. He could feel gusts of winds cutting through the cracks on the door, touching his hand like dull blades. He gave the door a push and watch it opened without a sound.

                A rush of wind grabbed the fire from the container in his hand.

                Hameed gulped as he lays his eyes on the object he seeks.

                "The Holy Sword..." Hameed gulped. His pulse races as he lays his eyes on the gold scabbard and the diamond encrusted hilt sitting on top of a pedestal basking in the light that came from above. Leather straps wrapped both ends of the sword golden scabbard, a sling to strap the sword at the back of its user, Hameed noted. He moved his legs, heavy from the awe of what lies in front of him, towards the sword.

                Hameed closed the container in his hand and replaced it back in the pocket of his robe.  With his sight still stuck to the sword, he laid his fingers on its diamond encrusted hilt. Warmth surged through his fingers as he touches it. It moves, gently and soft up his veins and to his head. Hameed closed his eyes, savoring the feeling.

                Once the feeling that swells inside him calmed down, Hameed picked the sword up from its pedestal and unsheathed it. The magnificent silver blade left its scabbard like the passing of the stars shining from the light from above. Its hilt, warm to the touch, felt balanced, not too heavy nor too light even with the diamond encrusted on it. Hameed ran his fingers down the blade and grits his teeth as coldness pricked the tip of his fingers. He let go and replaced the blade back into its scabbard.

                "Time to bail out of this place" he said and looked up.

                "Looks like that's my only way out". He strapped the sword to his back and climbed up the pedestal. With a heave, Hameed pushed the metal grate open and pulled himself up back above ground.

                Hameed rolled to his side and pushed himself back up. He brushed the dirt off his robe and looked around. "The city outskirt" he said when he saw the destroyed city in front of him. He kicked the metal grate close and tightened the leather strap around his chest. "I need to get back to the Grand Cleric fast"

                Hameed was about to turn away from the city when the bushes around him ruffles and the deep growls of wolves surrounds him. Hameed's eyes sharpened. He glanced at his back, the only opened area and his only possible escape route.

                The growls grew louder and the ruffles of the bushes grew more intense.