Swords: 10 - The Seventh Book Of Lost Swords - Wayfinder's Story Read Online Free

Valdemar said: “Let us try that!” In a moment he had unbelted his Sword, and was gallantly proffering the black hilt in her direction, the sheathed Blade balanced flat across his forearm.
           Quietly she responded: “I do not know that you have hit on the right interpretation, young man. But…on the other hand, why should I fear this Sword?”
           Her lips moved again, almost silently. Only Zoltan, who was close beside her, could hear her very low whisper: “Yet I do.”
           A moment later, she was reaching out to firmly grasp Wayfinder’s hilt.
           Having accepted the weapon, and drawn it from its sheath, Yambu stood up straight, her voice becoming a little louder. “It is a long time since I have felt the power of any Sword in my hands. Well, Sword of Wisdom, here you are, and here am I. If you can read my heart, show me the way which I must go to satisfy it.”
           The Silver Queen held out the blade in a strong two-handed grip, then swept it around the horizon, in unconscious imitation of Valdemar’s first gesticulation with the weapon, seven days ago.
           In her hands, Wayfinder’s keen point quivered at one point of the compass only—almost straight east.
           Yambu let the tip of the heavy blade sag to the earth. She said to Valdemar: “I am favored with a definite reply. Now, do you want me to give you this weapon back?”
           To the surprise of both the others, the giant youth put both his hands behind him, as if to make things difficult for anyone who meant to thrust the black hilt back into his possession. He said: “My lady, I wonder…”
           “Yes?”
           “Might the Sword’s response to me mean that I am to stay with you, at least for a time? Travel with you?”
           Yambu thought about it. “It brought you all this way to me. I suppose it might mean something of the sort,” she conceded at length, as if reluctantly.
           “And just now, in your hands, Wayfinder pointed east. Do you know what lies in that direction?”
           Yambu smiled. “Half of the world,” she said.
           Zoltan, with his head tipped back, was leaning alternately to right and left, trying to peer upward through the canopy of leaves. He said: “Some days ago, we two were discussing the question of our destination, the true object of our pilgrimage, in philosophical terms. Then we began to be hunted. Being hunted limits one’s time for philosophical discussion. In the process of trying to escape from the reptiles we became lost. Valdemar, you’ve helped us now to temporary safety. But as a practical matter, I must say that our next goal, whether east or west, ought to be some place of greater security. Somewhere completely out of the ken of those whose creatures stalk and harry us.”
           Valdemar looked from one to the other of his new companions, trying to assess the situation. There was no doubting the reality of those drifting shadows that kept reappearing no very great distance up the hill.
           “And who might your enemies be?” he asked with concern.
           “There are a number of possibilities,” said Yambu drily. Again she took up the Sword in both hands. “But let us not become obsessed with safety. We are going east.”
     
     

 
    Chapter Two
     
           “Hurled to the ends of the earth, you say. Astride a demon?” The speaker, a startlingly handsome and apparently very youthful man, gave every indication that he found the prospect hugely amusing.
           “Yes, to the ends of the earth, or farther for all I know. That was months ago, of course, and neither the Dark King nor his demonic steed have been heard from since.” The youthful-looking man’s informant, a short, blond woman or girl who appeared even younger than he, flashed a bright grin of her own. “Is it not entertaining, Master Wood?”
           The two who