Chapter Three
"Quick!" Frida's father yelled, "Everyone! We need water!" He rushed over to Frida, "Darling, are you alright?"
"Yes..." Frida gave her father a quick hug, "I'm fine..." She turned to Lief, he was still holding the sword's hilt, and he was shaking.
"Lief..." Frida's father stepped up to him. "That was very brave...I thank you."
Lief nodded, swallowed hard, and pushed his sword back into it's sheath. He could still feel the power surging through his arms, and it scared him. "I'd better help..." He nodded in the direction of the men rushing to and fro, carrying buckets of water, trying to put out the fire.
Lief stumbled out of the doorway and tried to think clearly. The sword seemed to have done something to him, he didn't know what.
"Lief," Sherdac ran up behind his brother, "Wow Lief, I didn't know the sword was that magical!"
Lief lent against a building, his heart pounding. "Sherdac," He whispered, his voice hoarse with horror, "Sherdac look." He pulled up the sleave of his shirt, on his right arm.
Sherdac gasped, a long jagered mark, much like a scar, ran from Lief's shoulder, almost to his elbow. It looked like lightning.