Seven Swords by Michael E. Shea (the speed reading book .TXT) 📕
- Author: Michael E. Shea
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“One day the spear commander had my brother, a scout brother whom I had fought beside for three years, staked and burned for a small error in his report. I saw my friend’s eyes as they ran the spike through him and I knew I must leave.
“There were no chains for the slave army. If you ran, you starved and died. Once or twice we came upon the remains of slaves who ran. They had been picked clean and baked under the sun for days. I spent a month preparing for my escape. I rationed water and smuggled food. I planned my route. I was a scout and I had trained well, but it wasn’t enough.
“I fled into the west and within five days I was lost, out of water, and delirious with exhaustion. I saw what I thought to be a rock on the horizon but before I came anywhere near it, I fell facing the red sun and knew it would take me.
“It didn’t. I awoke looking up at stone lit by fire. A man bent over me, his face carved by age. He had no teeth and his eyes were as black as night. He smiled and it frightened me. We were not alone. There were some fifteen others and when they spoke, they spoke in a language I did not know. There were dark paintings on the wall, paintings of beasts of nightmare. There was an altar of black stone with three skulls on it. The altar scared me.
“Then I saw Enka. She was small, like the rest of them, but full breasted and with wide hips. She was lighter-skinned than the rest of them but dark of hair with those black on black eyes. She wore nothing but a wrap of skin around her hips. I was aroused by her and they laughed at me when they saw.
“They fed me and gave me cool water from a spring deep within the caves of the rock. They fed me strings of bird flesh and a moss that grew inside the cave. I was soon strong enough to move. The old man took me about. All of them slept in one cave on animal skins, a single large clay pot cooked all of their food. The old man spoke to me. He was named Rendu, which meant Old Uncle I learned later.
“The girl, Enka, showed me around the rock with two other men. She spoke in their same tongue, showing me crevasses and juts in the rock where more altars had been placed. Even if she spoke Galaressen or Vex, I wouldn’t have paid attention. I watched the way her breasts swayed and bounced. I watched her hips shift in and out of the sides of her wrap. I lusted for her but soon I loved her even more.
“I learned much of their language and skills in pottery, hunting, and even some of their religion, which dated back at least five or six thousand years.
“One day I walked outside the caves and saw a ring of young men watching two more fight with knives. They were amazing and my lust for battle took me over. They gave me two knives and faced me against a younger boy who weighed much less than I. He defeated me easily. Enka put a herb wash on my cuts that stung like the third hell but I wanted more. I couldn’t farm herbs or make pots or seek water, but this was a trade I understood.
“I spent two years with them, learning their religions and philosophies of the cycle of life. One day a young man fell and broke his leg high up on his hip. He died a week later painfully. They buried his body but cleaned his skull and placed it on the altar to their goddess, Stiva the Traveler. My nightmares of the human skulls left me.
“One night I sat on top of the rock watching the blood moon rise. I heard the whisper of bare feet on the stone. Enka sat next to me and placed a hand on my leg. She kissed my neck and pushed me to my back. I watched her as she mounted me and began to move like waves of sand on the wind. The red moon made her skin glow. She was a goddess. We climaxed together, rested, and began again. Afterwards I lay there looking at her smooth face in the deep night. It was the best night of my life.
“The next day they were gone. They had left food and the clothes they had found me in. The cave paintings were gone. The altars were gone. Had it not been for two things, I might have dreamed the whole thing.” San’doro drew his two daggers, the blades shone red in the low moon.
“Not a single day goes by that I don’t think about Enka.”
Jon placed a hand on San’doro’s shoulder and stood. He carefully climbed back down and rejoined his other sleeping companions. He looked back up at San’doro, who sat watching the red sun set in the northern sky.
Jon awoke with the warm sun on his face. Cool breezes blew down off the mountain and he marveled at the steam of his breath. The sound of trickling water made him turn and see Adrin urinating near by.
“I have a treat for you today,” said Jon. Adrin’s face fell and paled.
“Hells, please,” said Adrin. “My body feels like a bag of gnarled sticks and my head still throbs from Susan’s trick. Please, I need another day of rest.”
“You’ll like this one,” said Jon. He went to his saddle bags and took out a bundle of gray cloth. He dropped it near Adrin, who buttoned his trousers. Adrin bent over, hand on his hip like an old man. He unwrapped the bundle and his eyes widened. He put his hand into the unwrapped bundle and lifted the pistol into the sunlight. The red sun shone off of the silver dragonhead hammer.
“I thought those were lost,” said Ca’daan behind them. “I thought you had left them.”
“I would never leave guns in the hands of madmen,” said Jon. “I awaited the right time.”
Adrin was speechless. Jon enjoyed the wonder and excitement in the young man’s eyes. It reminded Jon of the day Renold had given Jon the falcon pistols he wore now.
“Let’s go shoot,” said Jon.
They spent the morning discussing the mechanism, loading, cleaning, and use of the two pistols. Adrin listened intently.
“The trick isn’t shooting with these but reloading quickly enough to shoot again.” Jon showed Adrin how to wrap the cartridges and how to load both guns at one time. He taught him how to reset the flint and clean the barrel. When Adrin could stand no more, they began to shoot.
Adrin had the eye of a hawk and the steady hand of the dead. It took him five shots to hit what had taken Jon five hundred. Adrin learned to reload both guns simultaneously. He understood the importance of the ball spinning down to up instead of up to down.
The art of gun and sword took longer. They dueled with rapiers and daggers, learning to accept a disarm for the gun. Adrin had trouble with the concept of switching from one style to another. His draw was slow with his rapier in hand.
His fast two-gun draw, however, was deadly.
When they walked back to their camp, Adrin wore the dragon hammered guns on his hips as Jon wore his own. The Kal smiled at him and San’doro bowed.
They mounted up and rode hard in the crags, down into the valley and two days later they came to Fena Dim.
White smoke ran in calm trails into the cool mountain sky. The smell of burning cedar brought back memories of a childhood long lost. One of warm fur blankets, hot breakfast, and loving parents in the stone walls of his father’s keep in the high moors.
Stone huts dotted the green hillside. Brill grazed in huge fields of golden wheat. A stream of crystal water ran through the town from the western snow-capped mountains. A single road led north and south with trails leading into the lower hills at the base of the mountains.
None of that compared to the cyclopean statue that dwarfed the throne of mountains upon which it sat.
Jon’s mind had trouble measuring the scope and shape of the behemoth. It was other-worldly. Jon had seen features of the titan in idols and paintings of the old gods but nothing he had seen compared to this. The featureless head, sunken and brooding, opened a mouth wide in a silent roar.
The titanic colossus presided over the most beautiful town Jon had seen in the south. He pulled his cloak tighter and wished for a moment that he had not shaved his head. The others were as speechless as Jon. They stared up at the colossus as he had.
“We call it the Old One,” said Ca’daan, smiling at them. The brill trader told them of the amazing site as they continued their ride.
They rode in single file down the path leading to the village. Jon could smell baked bread on the air and his stomach rumbled.
Four boys ran from a nearby house, across the bridge, and to the main road.
“Our militia,” said Ca’daan and the Kal laughed.
From somewhere a woman screamed and ran from another nearby house to the boys. She lifted the smallest and clutched the arm of another. Screaming at the remaining two she pulled the boys back into the cottage.
Susan looked at him and his heart sank. There would be no welcome here. As if confirming his fear a group of twelve men gathered and crossed the same bridge. They carried crude pikes and knives in their belts.
“Who are they?” said Adrin.
“The salt miners, but I don’t know why they’re here. They should be mining.”
The twelve men stood at the end of the bridge waiting for them. A smaller grim-looking fellow scowled at Ca’daan. Ca’daan dismounted as he arrived.
“Hello Severn,” said Ca’daan. The man nodded. Ca’daan turned. “These are the seven swords. They’re going to save Fena Dim.”
“From what?” said the man. “Our food? Our livestock? Our women?” Jon felt Thorn stiffen and so apparently did this man Severn. He shifted from foot to foot. “In any case, we need no protection.”
“Severn. You cannot defend against what I saw. These are the best fighters in the world. They traveled two weeks to get here with no desire for money or plunder. These are men and women of noble spirit.”
“For your travel I am sorry. We can bring you fresh provisions for the return journey,” said Severn. “For now you can turn back and away from the town.” The man’s hand squeezed the shaft of his spear so tight that his knuckles went white.
“Listen, whore’s son.” Adrin galloped forward. Jon held out his hand to stop him. The men reacted, drawing their spears point forward. It may have been the most poorly performed martial maneuver Jon had ever seen. Apparently Thorn thought the same thing. His laugh sent the spear men to the balls of their feet.
“Friend,” said Jon. “Thank you for the offer of your food. We will camp up the road and meet you in the morning.”
“I need to speak to my uncle,” said Ca’daan.
“Your uncle has been removed from the council,” said Severn. Ca’daan’s mouth hung open.
“How?” Ca’daan said, stunned. “Who took his place?
“I did,” said Severn.
“Let’s go,” said Jon. He turned his horse and rode away. The others followed.
They lit their fire as the red
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