Read Online The Seven Swords by Nils Johnson-Shelton - Free Book Online Page B

of gruff snorts. A silvery ball of snot shot from his nose, landing with a loud splat on the ground.
    â€œBedevere, you stand there,” Artie said, indicating one of the crossover’s disklike rocks. He moved to the other disk, pommel in hand.
    The three closest aurochs jumped toward Lance. He stood his ground and nocked an arrow. “Hurry up, dude,” he said.
    â€œ Lunae lumen! ” Artie whispered fiercely.
    The dark pommel swirled with a blue glow. It became very cold, and then a beam of light shot from it in two directions. One end passed through Artie’s hand—which tickled a little—striking the ground a few feet behind him. The other arced through the air, bending down and hitting a spot the same distance behind Bedevere.
    Half ovals of light spun like gyroscopes between these two points. The air around them shimmered, and a twinkling curtain fell into place. It hit the ground, and a shock wave of silence shot away in all directions, striking the knights’ eardrums like a sudden drop in air pressure.
    When this burst of silence hit the three aurochs, they shook their great, blocklike heads in confusion. When it reached the rest of the herd, it caused something like a mass panic. The beasts scattered in all directions, some of the larger ones awkwardly trampling over the smaller ones.
    And that was when they finally saw the white creature. It was a regal-looking stag with at least thirty points on his rack of horns.
    For a moment it surveyed the turmoil around it, like a general watching a field of battle. Then it looked at Bedevere, then Artie, then Bedevere again. And then, Artie swore, it realized what they were doing.
    It recognized the crossover point.
    The stag reared like a horse in an old western before taking off, driving a group of aurochs right toward the gate.
    The knights had to get out of there.
    Pronto.
    Artie and Bedevere pivoted through the crossover gate. Next came Kay, followed quickly by Lance, who had Erik by the arm. Erik was looking over his shoulder, his face twisted and frantic.
    And just like that, they were in Sweden, on another barren slope above a river. In the distance was an identical boreal pine forest.
    They flanked the crossover point for a few seconds. No sign of the aurochs or the stag. No miniature thunder underfoot. No snotty snorting sounds. But then about a dozen of the animals burst through the gate and bolted past them. Bringing up the rear was the stag. It split the aurochs into two groups and continued full-bore downhill.
    â€œWhoa!” Lance said.
    â€œShould we let the aurochs cross, sire?” Bedevere wondered.
    â€œI don’t know,” Artie admitted.
    â€œWe couldn’t stop them if we wanted to,” Erik observed. “I mean, they make cows look like calves! Besides, they seem right at home.” The land around them was basically the same as Surmik, and the animals had trotted downhill a way, stopped, and begun to graze.
    All this was fine by Artie. He wasn’t concerned with the aurochs anymore. He was more interested in the white stag, now a speck moving at breakneck speed toward the river.
    Erik, also dismissing the aurochs, stepped next to Artie and said, “That thing’s fast.”
    â€œYeah.” Artie stuffed the pommel inside his shirt. The forest in the distance looked limitless and dark and more than a little spooky. Erik made a low humming sound and Artie asked, “What is it?”
    â€œI’ve got a funny feeling, that’s all,” Erik said a little nervously.
    Artie smiled. “Funny feelings are good.”
    Erik turned to Artie. “I’m not sure how,” he said weakly, “but I know how to find Gram.”
    â€œWe track that stag, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    Artie bit some loose skin off his bottom lip and spit it at the ground. “Let’s get tracking, then.”

9 - IN WHICH THE PARTY SPLITS UP, AND HOW MAYBE THAT ISN’T SUCH A SMART