Seven Swords by Michael E. Shea (the speed reading book .TXT) đź“•
Severn was addressing the four old men stringing out lines of formality and false respect that left the four men baffled and confused. For four years Severn had asked the elders to open the old mines deeper in the hills but so far the elders declined. More salt mining required more salt miners. Enlarging the village was not desirable and most knew that Severn only desired wealth and a seat on the council of elders. He had been blocked for ten years.
"Uncle, I must speak," said Ca'daan. Severn scowled at him. Gauve looked at him and frowned.
"You may speak when it is your turn," he said. Severn cleared his throat to begin.
"Fena Set has burned," said Ca'daan. All eyes turned to him. Each face revealed either shock, anger, c
Read free book «Seven Swords by Michael E. Shea (the speed reading book .TXT) 📕» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Michael E. Shea
- Performer: -
Read book online «Seven Swords by Michael E. Shea (the speed reading book .TXT) 📕». Author - Michael E. Shea
The large man stepped forward and picked her up in a hug. Ca’daan saw the shine of silver in Vrenna’s left hand, a gleam off of her palm spike. She didn’t use it, however. The Kal put her down and a strange look pulled the corners of his mouth. Ca’daan realized it was a smile. The sight made Ca’daan uncomfortable.
“I always hoped to see you again,” said the large gladiator.
Vrenna smiled and shuffled. She still looked nervous.
Ca’daan looked to Jon. Jon shrugged and stepped forward.
“Good sir,” Jon began. “Our group has gathered to protect the village of Fena Dim to the south. They stand threatened by flesh-eating bandits of great number. We have joined in this fight to protect the town. There is no pay, no reward, no fame, the fight will likely end in our deaths.”
“Is she going?” asked the Kal, nodding towards Vrenna.
“Yes,” said Jon.
“Then my answer is yes.”
Adrin and the Kal spent much of the walk back to A’deem’s home in chatter. The Kal’s performance in the fight seemed to change Adrin’s impression of Fena Kef’s pit fights. The Kal recounted many stories of his fights and those of other hero pit fighters.
“Longfang was tough,” said the large man, his warclub resting on his shoulder and referring to the proper name of the mountain they had seen him kill. “He had held the championship for three years.”
“But you only struck once,” said Adrin. “You could have beaten him at any time.”
“Untrue,” said the Kal. He pointed at his bald head. “I struck a thousand times in my mind and none of them hit. Had I actually thrown any of those blows, he would have driven that axe through me. That one strike was the only one that would have succeeded and I am ashamed to have used it.”
“Gods, why?” asked Adrin.
The Kal stuck one hand down the front of his trousers. His hand moved around while he swung his hips and grimaced. Ca’daan found the shimmy movements confusing and disturbing. Something snapped alarmingly. He drew out his hand and revealed a cup of iron with three straps dangling from it. Jon erupted in laughter.
“It was a ruse?” asked Adrin.
“Longfang was well known to kick the manhood when he grew frustrated. It was a gamble.”
Adrin smiled. “Indeed.”
“Now Grimblade, that one was mean. He was small but very fast. He should have been the golden sword. I’ve only fought one other as tough and as fast as he was.”
“Grimblade cut deep into my belly, here.” The Kal pulled down the top of his trousers and revealed a wide pink scar running across his abdomen. I had to fight the rest of the match with my guts out. I lost my club and had to pin him down and beat him with my elbow until they pulled me off him.”
“Gods,” said Ca’daan, feeling his stomach twisting and wishing he hadn’t heard about that fight.
“You said he was the second toughest,” said Adrin. “Who was the first?”
“She was.” The Kal pointed to Vrenna. The warrior woman shrugged and gave a smiled at the huge man, he gave her one of his twisted grins in response.
They reached A’deem’s tent and entered.
“I’m not sure I have enough food to feed him,” A’deem pointed to Thorn. “Much less the rest of you, but I’ll see what I can do.”
A’deem was being modest. He managed to cook a horse-stew that left Ca’daan stuffed like a pig. They laughed and talked through dinner. As they recovered, Jon spoke to A’deem.
“We will need desert horses and enough food and water to get us to Fena Dim.”
A’deem scratched his whiskers. “I know a man, but he is not cheap.”
“That shouldn’t trouble us,” said Adrin, drawing the leather pouch from his hip. He pulled it free and tossed it to the sand. Golden coins spilled out.
“Apparently not,” said A’deem.
A’deem’s horselord was neither cheap nor pleasant. He glared at the group, even more so when he saw the gold coins.
“No good ever came from selling horses to thieves and bandits in the deep of night, no matter the gold,” he said. “Who chases you?”
“Perhaps it is we who chase them, old man,” said Adrin.
“Perhaps not,” said the old man, glaring at Adrin with his one sharp good eye, the other clouded over. He stood silent a moment and then snatched the pouch from Adrin’s hand.
“Leave.”
A’deem followed them as far as the edge of the town. Each of them had a small desert horse save Thorn and the Kal who rode larger stallions of dusty red. Ca’daan rode Gray Cloud, well rested and well fed.
Ca’daan dismounted and embraced A’deem.
“You did it, brother,” said A’deem. “Take your warriors back to Fena Dim.”
“I can never thank you enough, my brother,” said Ca’daan. “I will see you in six moons.”
“You make some fine horse meat stew, A’deem,” said Adrin.
“You spill some fine horse manure yourself, young man,” said A’deem with a wink. Jon laughed and Adrin blushed.
Ca’daan mounted Gray Cloud. He saw Susan’s eyes on him from under her hood. He smiled at her but the look in her eyes made his skin grow cold.
As night fell, the six horses and seven riders rode south out of Fena Kef.
Ca’daan awoke as the red sun rose. They had only traveled a short way out of Fena Kef but it seemed important to Jon that they leave the town in the middle of the night.
Jon and Susan ate breakfast. Ca’daan noticed that Jon’s shaved head had grown as tan as the rest of his body. He looked completely different from the long-haired merchant as which he had first appeared. Thorn appeared to still sleep, a small wind-tent shading his head from the rising sun.
In the violet shade of morning, Ca’daan saw Adrin standing on the dunes in sword practice. He swung and pierced, dove and feigned. His technique was amazing and the complicated moves were beautiful. The sun shone off the bare breasts of the sculpted naked angel handguard.
“Fine swordsplay, young master,” said the Kal, chewing on a strip of dried meat. “You will blind your foes with the spin of your blade.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Adrin, tipping his hat.
“Do not thank him,” said Jon without looking. “He is having fun with you.”
Adrin glared at the bald man. Jon continued.
“You swing like that and you will find an axe in your gut.”
Adrin’s jaw clenched.
“Perhaps your own blade has lost its shine, old man,” said Adrin. “Perhaps you are more likely to blind only yourself.”
“If you are going to travel with us and do battle, you are going to have to learn fast. We will not have time to coddle your ego.”
Ca’daan felt his heart jump. Besides Adrin, he appeared to be the only one surprised by Jon’s words. Vrenna watched Adrin’s reaction with cold eyes. Susan chewed her flatbread. The Kal shrugged. Thorn slept.
Adrin’s expression fell and his cheeks grew scarlet.
“I have trained with the greatest masters of the north,” said Adrin through clenched teeth. “I have killed lords and cutthroats across half the world.”
“If you actually believe that, I cannot help you,” said Jon.
“Old man,” said Adrin. “Maybe it’s time you taught me what an old deserter could possibly teach.”
Adrin stood, legs apart, and his rapier in his right hand. Seething under the brim of his three-corner hat. If that look of death had been aimed at him, Ca’daan would have wet his breeches.
Jon stood slowly, moving to the pack on his desert horse.
“So, you’re not too afraid to face Salamonca steel after all,” said Adrin.
“That is not a Salamonca,” said Jon.
“And how would you know?” asked Adrin.
“Because this one is.”
Jon drew a rapier from the pack on his horse. It shown crimson in the light of the low sun. The blade was like none Ca’daan had ever seen. Falcon wings arched up from the guard and a falcon’s head pointed out on the hilt. The sword was not as ornate as Adrin’s, but Ca’daan could see the workmanship in the temper of the blade. He wasn’t the only one to notice. The Kal whistled and Vrenna’s eyes sparkled when she saw Jon swing it.
Even Adrin’s bolstered confidence seemed to waver.
“You are mistaken, sir,” said Adrin, his voice wavering. “This is Suun’s Kiss, hammered twenty six years ago and tested through the bodies of four men. I do not wish to test it on you.”
“I met Salamonca. As a boy I ran water to his forge. He was brilliant, an artist in the medium of steel. He would never stoop so low as to make a sword with teats on it.”
The Kal laughed and Adrin’s face grew a darker shade of red.
“Enough talk, old man.”
“Indeed.”
Adrin swung hard, aiming for Jon’s left arm. Jon hardly moved at all. He stood passive, letting the blade whip in. Then he turned and parried hard. His sword rang across the desert plane.
Adrin’s sword exploded. Shards of steel shot through the air. One cut Adrin’s cheek, sending drops of blood down his face. The rest fell into the dirt of the dunes.
The group was silent. Even Thorn had sat up to watch the short duel.
“You son of a whore,” whispered Adrin. He stared at the useless hilt in his hand.
Jon walked back to his horse and drew another sword. This rapier was plain, not ornate, with a simple dull handguard and a chipped blade. He turned and tossed it at Adrin’s feet.
“This isn’t a great sword but it is a good one. It is familiar to battle and strong enough to survive when its wielder does not.”
Ca’daan recognized the sword. He had seen the hilt on the belt of one of the dark riders Jon had killed. Adrin stared at the sword and then at Jon. Adrin walked away to his small camp and sat, facing away from the rest of them. Jon left the sword where it lay.
“We can begin tomorrow,” he said and then returned to Susan.
“That was a smart move,” said the Kal to Ca’daan. “If Adrin had picked up the sword in anger, he might have died.”
They ate and then they rode, taking a rest at the hottest parts of the day when the huge red sun hung bloated in the orange sky. In the late afternoon they began again until nightfall. They made camp at an ancient marker set in the days of the old empire. The stone was unnatural to the land around it and huge. Unfamiliar script marked the stone. Whether calls to the old gods, proclamations of kings, or simple geographical instructions, none of them could say.
The air cooled that night and each of the members of the party rested under woolen blankets with wind traps to push away the chilled breeze.
When they awoke at sunrise, Adrin was gone.
They ate and rode through the morning without speaking of Adrin’s departure. Ca’daan looked out over the desert, hoping to see the young man return. As they set camp, Ca’daan saw his chance to talk to the Kal alone. Ca’daan sat down next to the man.
“Why did Jon do that?” asked Ca’daan.
“He had to,” said the Kal.
“He didn’t have to humiliate him like that,” said Ca’daan. “I saw Adrin fight. He had real skill.”
“He was good, better than Jon let on,” said the Kal. “But he thought he was better than he really was. That would
Comments (0)