Read Online The Dragon Ring (Book 1) by C. Craig Coleman - Free Book Online
Authors: C. Craig Coleman
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discover in time.”
“Dwarves ... elves…” Bodrin mumbled.
“Follow Tournak’s instruction carefully and learn to use Sorblade with pride as its former owner did. I’m certain you’re the rightful master. Draw Sorblade from the scabbard.”
“Did you say dwarves and elves made this sword?” Saxthor hesitated at first and then took the marvel in both hands. “I thought people made up elves and dwarves to scare kids.”
Memlatec stroked his beard. “Yes, well, they made up wizards, too, didn’t they?”
Saxthor glanced up and blushed. “Yes, I get your meaning, sorry…” Wide-eyed Saxthor withdrew Sorblade. “I never had a real sword before. I sense warmth. It’s a grown-up’s sword, yet fits my hands just right.” His fingers caressed the metal blade with careful strokes as if the steel were delicate. “This is mine – you’re sure?”
Memlatec nodded.
“The sword should be too heavy, but you handle it like a stick,” Bodrin said. “Wish you’d had your mighty weapon when we came through the briars.”
Saxthor’s confidence swelled. He slashed about with the ease of a war veteran. “This is terrific! Elves, you say?”
Memlatec nodded and grinned. “The sword’s warmth acknowledges you’re the rightful owner, though you’re no elf.”
In an arc, Saxthor topped a sapling. “You sure this is for me?”
“Were it not, it would’ve burned your hand. You’d have dropped the sword right away.”
“Gee, thanks for warning me.” Saxthor sliced through a bush. “I sure do like Sorblade. Real elves made this?”
Bodrin looked down at his hunting knife, his favorite possession. “I bet I can still do more with my hunting knife than you can with your sword.”
The wizard took down the second sword and presented the weapon to Bodrin. “This is your great-uncle’s sword, but it comes without enchantment.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bodrin said. Transfixed, he took the rapier with near reverence. His small fingers felt both hilt and blade as a blind man seeing. He held his treasure out and examined it. Satisfied it was real; he spun round to Saxthor to show his friend his ancestral protection. Assured the heirloom was his, he clutched the sword to his chest.
“Bodrin, I’ve lightened your sword for your size. The spell will dissipate as you grow up. I send with you boys five gifts, your swords are but two.”
Saxthor was engaged in leveling the undergrowth when Memlatec cleared his throat.
“Saxthor, could I have your attention?”
“Oh, sure,” Saxthor sensed his face flush. He lowered the flailing sword and sheathed the blade with care.
“Thank you. Fedra flying above would be too obvious for your journey. Take with you Twit the wren as lookout. He has sharp eyes, quick actions, and he’s extraordinarily brave if a bit cranky. Take this staff with you and learn to use it for self-defense.” The wizard reached back into the tree’s cavity and took out the pouch.
Saxthor was the first to detect the respectful touch with which the wizard held the small sack. He poked Bodrin, who was slaughtering saplings unrestrained. Memlatec loosened the drawstrings and opened the leather bag whose outside displayed three large red and gold runes. The old man peered into the pouch and stood still for a moment. He reassured himself of something, then reached in and took out two small items.
“Take this necklace and ring. Wear the necklace always, and keep the ring in your pocket until such time as you need it.” Memlatec’s voice was solemn.
Saxthor squeezed the hilt of his sword again to be sure it was real and caught Memlatec’s eyes locked on the jewelry.
-
Twit gave the wizard a sharp peck, flew up in the trees and peered down at him.
Who’s that old man to call me cranky, anyway? Everyone has an opinion like other things, Twit thought. The boy does appear promising, though obsessed with destruction at the moment. The wizard thinks him special. I’ll be lookout for the
“Dwarves ... elves…” Bodrin mumbled.
“Follow Tournak’s instruction carefully and learn to use Sorblade with pride as its former owner did. I’m certain you’re the rightful master. Draw Sorblade from the scabbard.”
“Did you say dwarves and elves made this sword?” Saxthor hesitated at first and then took the marvel in both hands. “I thought people made up elves and dwarves to scare kids.”
Memlatec stroked his beard. “Yes, well, they made up wizards, too, didn’t they?”
Saxthor glanced up and blushed. “Yes, I get your meaning, sorry…” Wide-eyed Saxthor withdrew Sorblade. “I never had a real sword before. I sense warmth. It’s a grown-up’s sword, yet fits my hands just right.” His fingers caressed the metal blade with careful strokes as if the steel were delicate. “This is mine – you’re sure?”
Memlatec nodded.
“The sword should be too heavy, but you handle it like a stick,” Bodrin said. “Wish you’d had your mighty weapon when we came through the briars.”
Saxthor’s confidence swelled. He slashed about with the ease of a war veteran. “This is terrific! Elves, you say?”
Memlatec nodded and grinned. “The sword’s warmth acknowledges you’re the rightful owner, though you’re no elf.”
In an arc, Saxthor topped a sapling. “You sure this is for me?”
“Were it not, it would’ve burned your hand. You’d have dropped the sword right away.”
“Gee, thanks for warning me.” Saxthor sliced through a bush. “I sure do like Sorblade. Real elves made this?”
Bodrin looked down at his hunting knife, his favorite possession. “I bet I can still do more with my hunting knife than you can with your sword.”
The wizard took down the second sword and presented the weapon to Bodrin. “This is your great-uncle’s sword, but it comes without enchantment.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bodrin said. Transfixed, he took the rapier with near reverence. His small fingers felt both hilt and blade as a blind man seeing. He held his treasure out and examined it. Satisfied it was real; he spun round to Saxthor to show his friend his ancestral protection. Assured the heirloom was his, he clutched the sword to his chest.
“Bodrin, I’ve lightened your sword for your size. The spell will dissipate as you grow up. I send with you boys five gifts, your swords are but two.”
Saxthor was engaged in leveling the undergrowth when Memlatec cleared his throat.
“Saxthor, could I have your attention?”
“Oh, sure,” Saxthor sensed his face flush. He lowered the flailing sword and sheathed the blade with care.
“Thank you. Fedra flying above would be too obvious for your journey. Take with you Twit the wren as lookout. He has sharp eyes, quick actions, and he’s extraordinarily brave if a bit cranky. Take this staff with you and learn to use it for self-defense.” The wizard reached back into the tree’s cavity and took out the pouch.
Saxthor was the first to detect the respectful touch with which the wizard held the small sack. He poked Bodrin, who was slaughtering saplings unrestrained. Memlatec loosened the drawstrings and opened the leather bag whose outside displayed three large red and gold runes. The old man peered into the pouch and stood still for a moment. He reassured himself of something, then reached in and took out two small items.
“Take this necklace and ring. Wear the necklace always, and keep the ring in your pocket until such time as you need it.” Memlatec’s voice was solemn.
Saxthor squeezed the hilt of his sword again to be sure it was real and caught Memlatec’s eyes locked on the jewelry.
-
Twit gave the wizard a sharp peck, flew up in the trees and peered down at him.
Who’s that old man to call me cranky, anyway? Everyone has an opinion like other things, Twit thought. The boy does appear promising, though obsessed with destruction at the moment. The wizard thinks him special. I’ll be lookout for the
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