The Last Praetorian Read Online Free Page A

in a foul
mood, made a snap decision to make an object lesson of this foolish young
idiot… and to her royal pain-in-the-ass.  Turning his smouldering gaze from the
young man back towards the Princess, Jon stated with a nasty sneer.  “It would
seem that you will indeed have an opportunity to see a Valerian sword.”  With a
firm shake of his shoulder, Jon shook the hand loose that had been resting
there and stood up.  Forcing the young man to take a few steps back. 
    Within a few seconds a space had formed around the two
opponents, licking his lips in nervousness the young man’s eyes darted to the
sword resting at Jon’s waist.
    “I see that you have your own sword, boy,” Jon stated in a
scornful tone. “Why don’t you draw it and show your pretty toy to the girls?” 
    Glancing around desperately for anybody to assist him, but
nobody would meet the young man’s gaze; finally he turned to the Princess
beseechingly.  The Princess took a step forward to intervene but froze mid-step
when Jon turned his angry stare on her.
    “This is none of your business, Princess!  Stay out of it!” 
    Turning back to the young man caught like a deer in his
headlights, Jon once again commanded.  “Draw your sword boy, at least then you
can die like a man.”  Now completely terrified the young man finally drew his
sword.  The sword was a piece of art - made of bright silver with flakes of
gold; it glittered in the lights of the room.  Letting the point of the sword
rest on the floor in front of him, Jon took a few steps forward until his feet
were almost touching the point of the sword.
    “Higher,” Jon insisted motioning to the sword in front of
him.  His hands still at his side, his sword still firmly encased in its sheath
at his waist.  With a nervous twitch the young man lifted the sword until it
was a few feet off the floor, hovering around Jon’s waist.
    “Higher!” Jon insisted, until the sword was now hovering
between them around chest height.  Grasping the sword with his left hand Jon
pressed it against his clavicle, before staring into the eyes of the petrified
youth in front of him.
    “Now strike!”  Jon demanded.  At this the youth almost
dropped the sword in shock!
    “So help me,” Jon barked, “use your sword or I’ll use it to
butcher you over the head!”  Terrified beyond belief the young man desperately
thrust with all his might as the sword slid smoothly forward… though empty space.
    While the young man had desperately been trying to find the
courage to lift the sword Jon had carefully tested the edge of the blade with
his thumb.  While the sword could indeed have decapitated him, it would have
taken a good few minutes of hacking!  The sword was just like the youth, all
show and no substance. Even if Jon had drawn his own blade one good swing from
his sword would have shattered the other.
    Instead as the young man had thrust the blade forward
towards his chest, Jon had calmly brushed the sword aside with his left hand,
which had been resting on the blade waiting for the blow.
    Totally off balance from the thrust, having expected the
sword to penetrate flesh instead of air the young man stumbled forward straight
into Jon’s forehead as with a resounding crack Jon slammed his forehead into
the nose of the young man, the sharp crack reverberated around the room.  The
youngster dropped his sword, falling to his knees, hands grasping his broken
nose.  Kicking the useless weapon aside Jon stepped aside the youth and drew
his own weapon.  The Valerian steel from his sword did not shine or glow like
the youth’s.  Instead it seemed to glisten with a blue fire along the edges.  Valerian
steel was impossibly sharp and considered to be unbreakable - in the years he
had owned this weapon, Jon had never had cause to question this.
    Holding the blade a few inches above the neck of the young
man, as the edge was deadly sharp; Jon cast his gaze around the room.  Nobody
had uttered a