Read Online The Nemisin Star by Elaina J Davidson - Free Book Online Page B

to interfere,” Torrullin said. “And it is a farce, yes.”
    There was dead
silence.
    “How is it a
farce?” Tristamil questioned.
    “How dare
you!” Tymall shouted.
    Torrullin’s
face set in stone. “This is not about the two of you.”
    “I suppose it
is about you!” Tymall snarled.
    Torrullin
studied him in silence for a beat and then nodded.
    “Not
everything is about you! You are so arrogant, so blinded by your
image of self that you cannot comprehend a situation that does not
revolve around you!” Tymall drew his sword. “Typical!”
    “Put it away,”
Torrullin said.
    “No!” Tymall
screeched and advanced.
    Tristamil drew
his blade. Both weapons remained dull.
    “Tris,
sheath,” Torrullin said.
    “Not until he
does.” Tristamil manoeuvred between his father and brother.
    “You have to
trust me,” Torrullin said, placing his hands on Tristamil’s
shoulders, feeling extraordinary tension.
    “I will not
use it,” Tristamil said, “unless he does.” He drew comfort from his
father’s touch.
    “That is good
enough.” Torrullin stepped away.
    “Very cute,”
Tymall hissed. “So together!” He moved forward a pace, gaze on his
father. “Come father, you have a sword. Draw it!”
    “You cannot
win a sword fight with me, Tymall. Put it away and listen to what I
have to say.”
    Tymall
wavered.
    “You
interfered, Enchanter,” Margus said behind him.
    Tymall
straightened and gripped his sword with both hands. Tristamil
jerked around to Margus, blade up. Torrullin did not move and did
not release Tymall’s eyes. He said nothing.
    Margus laughed
and ambled past Tristamil, and as he passed he flicked a hand at
the dull blue blade, a dismissive gesture. “Please, little pup, do
not insult me.”
    “I challenge
you to touch it, Darak Or!” Tristamil said, turning to keep Margus
in sight.
    The light of
understanding lit inside the Enchanter.
    Tymall saw it
and goosebumps raised his skin. “Do not touch it,” he said,
glancing over his shoulder.
    Margus’
eyebrows rose incredulously at his protégée. “You would tell me
what to do?”
    Tymall
shivered.
    Margus reached
out and took Tymall’s sword from him. He held it in one hand and
drew the forefinger of his other hand along the blade. Drops of
blood appeared; he smiled and sucked at his finger. Handling it
back, he said, “Look, Enchanter, I bleed. Is it not incredible?
From an almost whisper to a full-blooded warm body. I surprise even
myself.”
    Torrullin did
not respond.
    “Ah, silence,
is it? Effective.”
    “Touch the
other blade,” Torrullin said.
    “Why?”
    “An
experiment, if you are up to it.”
    “I have
nothing to prove.”
    “I do. Humour
me.” Torrullin glanced at Tristamil. “Put it on the ground and step
away.”
    Tristamil
looked askance at his father.
    Trust me.
    Tristamil
lowered his sword and bent to place it on the tiled floor. Keeping
his eyes on Margus, he straightened and stepped away.
    Nobody
moved.
    “I do not get
this,” Tymall muttered.
    “Then you do
not know your father very well,” Margus snapped.
    Tristamil
smiled.
    “Enchanter,
you interfered; that was not the bargain,” Margus said next.
    “You changed
the rules as well.”
    “The Dinor?
Please, Torrullin, you knew something would be added.”
    “You left the
field, Margus. Therefore the nuances are altered.”
    “I give you
that, but it was not intended.”
    “I thank you,
however. I am presented with a window.” The blue sword lay dull and
mute in the midst of the four players. Torrullin gestured. “Touch
it; I will not move.”
    “Tris, you
surrender your weapon? How stupid of you.” Tymall eyed the blade
warily.
    Margus’ gaze
was intent upon Torrullin. “You are different. You have more
confidence, and many more secrets I think. I like it not.”
    “You flatter
me. As I recall you never backed away from a challenge.”
    “And here is
the challenge? Why?”
    “If you are
able to touch that piece of metal, Darak Or, I