Taming Fire Read Online Free Page B

the extended sword with his staff. It fell free of the soldier's grasp, landing with a dull thud in the thick grass. "In Othin's homeland there is a tradition, Daven, that when a man loses a duel his only honor is in surrendering his blade. I believe you have rightfully won this."
    He hesitated a moment, considering, and then reached out to tap the sword belt draped from Othin's shoulder to hip, and that too fell free. He scooped the sword up clumsily and forced it into its scabbard, then held the belt out to me as a gift.
    I didn't dare touch it. Instead I met the wizard's eyes and asked, "What do you know of my fighting?"
    His eyes shone as he returned my gaze, "When you bend reality, Daven, reality remembers. I can see much of you in this place, and it makes me think perhaps there is a hope after all. I've found you in the nick of time, and it seems you may exceed even my own lofty expectations." His voice trailed off, and still he stood there in the night, arms extended toward me.
    Finally the awkwardness overcame my fear, and I reached out to take the belt. He nodded once, satisfied then whirled to face down the hill, nothing more than a shadowy motion in the darkness. "Come, it is quite late. Let us finish this discussion at your master's home."
    He started confidently along the graveled footpath, down and into the village. I followed the old man into the night, never doubting he knew the way.

2. Sorcery
    The gravel crunched with every step, holding back the silence of the settling night. Before us and below, Sachaerrich waited in the darkness, probably bustling as its citizens went to their meals though no sound reached us. Alone, we walked slowly alongside the gentle brook that bubbled down the hillside.
    After a moment the old man spoke. "Have you enjoyed your stay in Sachaerrich?"
    "It has been nice." My legs ached from the brief but frenzied fight, but I tried not to limp as we walked. By now the little wounds were nothing more than a distraction. "The village is a quiet place to live. The people are friendly."
    He looked at me for a moment, considering. "You have made friends here, then?"
    I shrugged. "Friends enough. Goodman Jemminor provides for me, and there are several of us that play at swords, sometimes."
    He chuckled. "Play at swords? You are modest. Still, it is good to hear you have friends. Will you miss them when you leave?"
    "No." I answered without thinking, but after a moment the question struck me as odd. "Why do you ask? I've nowhere to go."
    "Everyone leaves eventually, Daven. I imagine you'll be leaving soon."
    I nodded. Once more silence fell as we trudged on, then the stranger spoke again. "I am looking for a swordsman, Daven. I need a young man about your age, who knows how to use a solid weapon but is willing to participate in...nonstandard training." He hesitated, his eyes on my face. "Would you be that man?"
    For a moment excitement bubbled within me, like my daydream come true, but I fought it down. "I am just a shepherd. The most I've ever dreamed of is a place in the Guard." My voice sounded gloomy even to my ears.
    "And you just proved yourself worthy of one." He chuckled, waving vaguely back up the hill behind us. "You showed yourself worth more than that, even. You fought a Green Eagle and—"
    "I didn't fight him, though!" He blinked in surprise at my outburst, and I shrugged, "I mean...I didn't ever even hit him. He fell on me. He fell on me. It was just a trick of the spell."
    "Ah!" He said, holding up a finger, "Even the spell commends you, Daven. That is a surprisingly complex adjudication for such a young man. The fact that you can work it—"
    "I can't though." I was being rude, interrupting him, but he kept trying to call me more than I was. My father had been the last person to speak to me like that, and his words had all been lies. I said, "It's just a little spell. I bought it for a silver coin from a man in the City. He saw my book, and offered it to me. Anyone can do a