Disenchanted by Robert Kroese Read Free Book Online Page A

mysterious stranger? Does that sound like the sort of thing that would have a happy ending?”
    Boric was speechless for a moment. “You know of my meeting with Brand?”
    “I know that he gave six enchanted blades to kings or princes of the Six Kingdoms, one per kingdom. And I know the bargain that goes with the blades. First the blade serves you, then you serve the blade.”
    “I guess I figured the bargain ended when I died.”
    “You figured wrong.”
    “Is there anything you can do about it?”
    The witch shook her head grimly. “No one knows how to break the curse of the Blades of Brakboorn. I suspect the answer lies with the seventh blade, Orthslaagt, the one that Brand holds.”
    “Then I shall hunt down Brand and take Orthslaagt from him — along with his right arm, if I have to!”
    “Fool!” spat the witch. “That is exactly what Brand hopes you will do. You are being pulled toward him by the inexorable magic of the blade. Your humanity is slipping away, Boric, your own volition being replaced by the will of Lord Brand.”
    “Lord Brand!” exclaimed Boric. “He has pretensions to nobility, does he?”
    “He has pretension to more than that, I understand. Occasionally I receive visitors from the east seeking my expertise. One benefit of being officially exiled for witchcraft, you know, is that you get a reputation abroad. Recently news has reached me that Brand is assembling a new kingdom in the east. He rules a petty fiefdom beyond the Wastes of Preel. Some even say he plans to unify all the territory of the Old Realm under his rule.”
    “Ridiculous!” Boric rasped. “The Six Kingdoms have grown fiercely independent since the Fall.”
    “And they are constantly fighting amongst themselves,” added the witch. “A bold man might see an opportunity in the current situation.”
    “All the more reason for me to hunt down Brand and kill him,” said Boric. “He isn’t to be trusted with that sort of power.”
    “If you go to him, you will fall under his power,” repeated the witch. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    “Then what would you have me do, witch?” Boric demanded. “Run from him until I’m a heap of dry bones?”
    “Consider it a tactical retreat,” advised the witch. “You must fight the pull of Orthslaagt until you are strong enough to deal with Brand on your own terms.”
    “Strong enough!” growled Brand. “My flesh is rotting away as we speak! My humanity is draining away, and I am becoming a monster! I must seek out Brand now, while I still remember what it was to be human!”
    “No!” cried the witch. “You must accept that you are no longer human. You must give up your former ways of thinking and embrace your status as undead. Brand’s power over you arises from your desire to regain your humanity. When you let that go, Brand will no longer be able to control you.”
    “I don’t want to regain my humanity!” Boric protested. “I simply want to die .”
    The witch laughed. “Yes, but you want to die as a human being . You want to go straight from your heroic life to a jubilant afterlife, without this pesky detour into the gray wasteland of undeath. You must accept that you are a wraith, a foul creature of the night, hated by the living. When you have done that, you will be free to kill Brand and take Orthslaagt from him.”
    “But when I have become fully a wraith, I will no longer want to be free of Orthslaagt!”
    “A paradox, one must admit,” said the witch, nodding. “Sadly, that is the only answer. There is one thing I can do for you, though.”
    “Please,” said Boric. “Whatever you can do, I will be forever grateful.”
    “You should be a bit more hesitant about making eternal commitments,” the witch scolded. “Take your clothes off.”
    The one thing that the witch could do for Boric turned out to be embalming him, wrapping him with cloth saturated in foul-smelling substances that promised to slow the process of decay. The wrappings